In The Hour Of My Death
by blucougar57
Summary: Past experiences come back to haunt Bobby Goren when he suddenly falls deathly ill.
1. Diagnosis 101

_Disclaimer: The standard. I do not own Law & Order: Criminal Intent, House, or any characters hereby associated with either syndicated show. I only wish I do. I am not making any money from this. Don't sue me. I'm broke._

_Rating: T_

_With thanks to Franta...

* * *

_

_Walk-in Clinic  
__Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital  
__Princeton, NJ_

Dr Gregory House made his way into the clinic, feeling in a particularly sour mood. After nearly three weeks of avoiding clinic work (his personal best for that particular feat was something like five years), the Medical Chief of Staff, Dr Lisa Cuddy, had finally cornered him – literally – and threatened to up his hours at the clinic to two per day instead of four per week. In the end, he'd taken the only reasonable course left to him. He'd caved.

Oh, he'd let her know in no uncertain terms that he wasn't happy about it, but in the end he'd folded like a paper plane, and he hated himself for it.

As a consequence, he was determined to take his aggravation out on the very first loser who was unfortunate enough to be allocated to him.

He made no attempt to hide his scowl as the duty nurse handed him a thin file. Without so much as glancing at the name on the folder, House made his way down to Exam Room Three.

* * *

"So which is it?" House asked brusquely, without sparing his new patient so much as a glance as he walked into and dropped into the doctor's chair with a thud. "Broken bones, unexpected pregnancy, or the standard 'I'm not sick, I just don't want to go back to work' excuse?"

There was a distinct silence from the exam table. House was about to speak again, even more impatiently, when his patient finally responded, sounding more than a little bemused.

"Well… I might just be guessing, but I'm pretty sure that I'm not pregnant."

House finally looked up at the big man that sat on the edge of the exam table.

"Are you absolutely positive about that?" he asked, completely poker-faced. "I hear they're doing miraculous things with medicine these days."

A small grin passed fleetingly over the man's face.

"Wouldn't my partner love _that_ irony."

House swung around in the chair to face the man properly, feeling his bad mood lessen somewhat. Most patients he encountered normally sat either stone-faced or completely confused by his snarky comments. It was a pleasant change to come across someone who appreciated a more scathing sense of humour.

"So what _is_ the trouble…" He paused to glance at the name on the folder the nurse had handed him. "Detective Robert Goren, of the New York City Police?"

"You mean, aside from the fact that I feel lousy?"

"Uh, yeah," House retorted. "I do generally need just a little bit more information than that when I make a diagnosis."

Bobby swallowed the urge to smirk. Despite the obvious look of sympathy he'd seen the nurse give him when she had sent him to the exam room, he found himself already starting to like this abrasive doctor. The guy had a caustic wit, just like his partner. Bobby also guessed, though, that he was probably not the type for small talk. Well, that was fine. Neither was he.

"Sore throat," he said bluntly, "a fever that comes and goes, chest pains when I cough... nausea and dizziness."

House looked at Bobby in visible surprise, barely able to conceal his pleasure at encountering a patient who didn't get hung up on pointless details.

"Take your shirt off," House instructed him as he swung around to grab his stethoscope. When he turned back, though, Bobby hadn't moved.

"What's the matter?" he asked cuttingly. "Shy? You want me to tell you what's wrong with you? You need to take that shirt off."

Looking less than happy, Bobby unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it off. A moment later, House thought he understood why Bobby was so reluctant to strip off. His upper body was peppered with scars, some minor and others not so minor. Many looked recent, as in having happened within the last twelve to eighteen months. House looked away as he turned back to the desk to look for other items necessary to a proper examination. Sure, he was curious, but knowing what had caused those scars wasn't relevant to making a diagnosis. Yet.

He paused, though, as he began to turn back the detective. Lying previously unnoticed on the floor underneath the exam table was a full length leg brace and a sturdy, comfortable-looking walking stick. House looked back up at Bobby, mildly puzzled and increasingly curious.

"Those are yours?"

A guilty look flashed across Bobby's face as he glanced down at the items in question.

"Yeah."

"And a leg brace like that would suggest it _should_ be worn all the time."

The guilty look switched to one of annoyance.

"I know, I'm supposed to wear it all the time, but it feels so damned heavy sometimes. I figured leaving it off for a few minutes while I sat here wouldn't hurt."

House shook his head dismissively.

"Don't worry. I won't tell on you. You've got me curious now, though. What's a New York detective doing with a leg brace? You get shot?"

Bobby shook his head.

"No, not shot. My leg was broken… really badly."

"Take three deep breaths. How badly?"

Bobby drew in one long, deep breath, wincing at the pain in his chest.

"The first time it was broken in eight places. The second time, it was broken in two crucial spots. The third time, the femur splintered, and they had to remove an entire section of bone. Now I'll never be able to walk without a brace or a cane."

He drew in a second deep breath, only to have it end in a painful coughing fit.

"Here," House said, pushing a glass of water into Bobby's hand. "If you don't mind me asking, why are you in Jersey? Vacation?"

"No," Bobby said ruefully. "I got bullied into giving a string of lectures on the uses of profiling in interrogation for the police science faculty. I argued it over pretty hard with my captain, but he never gave me a choice. I guess I must have tried a few too many stunts to get out of it, though. When I said last night that I thought I was getting sick, the other detective that came as well didn't believe me. Told me to suck it up and get on with it."

House watched Bobby piercingly. The detective's words were interspersed with brutal, hacking coughs. He was definitely sick, there was no doubt about that.

"So," House said as he sat back and indicated for Bobby to put his shirt back on, "do you want the good news first, or the bad news?"

Bobby regarded him suspiciously.

"The good news."

"Interesting," House mused to himself. "Most people want the bad news first."

Bobby snorted derisively.

"Yeah, like the 'good news' is somehow going to outshine whatever the 'bad news' is. That's just bullshit."

It was all House could do not to smirk. He was actually starting to like this guy.

"Okay. The good news is, I think I can get you out of having to give those lectures."

Bobby didn't so much as crack a hint of a smile at the news.

"So what's the bad news?"

"The bad news is, you have bronchial pneumonia. Mandatory three weeks' complete bed rest, and a heavy course of antibiotics."

Bobby groaned softly.

"Great. My captain's going to kill me."

"You want me to write you a sick note?" House asked sarcastically. "Tell him you can't possibly give those lectures because you're sick?"

Bobby shook his head, oblivious to the attitude.

"No. I just have to do them."

"I really, _really_ wouldn't recommend it," House advised him. "You see, you really are sick… which is actually kind of unusual, considering the number of hypochondriac idiots that I normally have to put up with."

Bobby shook his head again and slid off the table, bending down to grab his brace and cane.

"Just prescribe me something to hold off the symptoms, just for a day or two. Then it won't matter."

House didn't move.

"No, it probably won't," he agreed, "because you'll probably be dead."

"Lay off the scare tactics," Bobby snapped. "I don't spook easily.

"I don't try to spook my patients," House snapped right back. He paused, and then added wryly, "At least, not intentionally. But I'm not kidding, and I'm not exaggerating. I'll need to x-ray your lungs to confirm it, but I think you have a highly aggressive form of pneumonia and unless you get complete rest straight away… preferably in a hospital… then you're not going to have to worry about anything anymore. Comprende?"

Bobby didn't flinch in the face of House's warning.

"One lecture. That's all. I have to give at least one lecture, and then I might have a chance at convincing my captain that I really am sick."

House nodded in apparent concession.

"When's your first lecture?"

"Tomorrow morning."

"Okay, fine. Give it, but on one condition. I want to be there for it."

"Why?" Bobby asked suspiciously. House shrugged.

"So I can say I told you so to your face when you don't get through it. Why else?"

New determination flared in Bobby's eyes at the challenge issued by House.

"Okay, come along. Be my guest. But I'm going to be fine."

"Sure you are," House retorted. "Mind if I bring along a few of my colleagues? I'd like to have someone to gloat to when I'm proven right."

"Bring whoever you like," Bobby snapped as he left the exam room. House grinned humourlessly as he watched Bobby go.

"Oh, I will."

* * *

"So, what did the doctor say?" Carolyn Barek asked as Bobby limped into their shared, two bedroom suite.

"Bronchial pneumonia," Bobby grumbled. Carolyn gave a disbelieving snort.

"Yeah, sure. Nice try, Goren, but you still have to give that first lecture tomorrow morning."

Bobby opened his mouth to retort, but never got a word out. His attempt ended in a fit of painful, hacking coughs that had him almost doubled over. Carolyn grabbed a bottle of water, and hurried to his side. When he finally was able to look up again, she was horrified to see his lips were red with his own blood.

"Oh my god… You really are sick."

She ushered him over to the nearest chair, and bade him sit down.

"Bobby, you're not going to be able to give any of those lectures, are you?"

He looked up at her in visible distress.

"I have to. Deakins… He'll be angry…"

She rubbed his arms gently, reassuringly.

"He'll understand. If you really do have bronchial pneumonia, then you have to rest. Any sort of effort is going to make it so much worse."

"You didn't believe I was sick when I said it last night," Bobby pointed out hoarsely, "and you're here. Deakins won't… won't believe it over the phone."

A sharp pang of guilt went through Carolyn at the memory of her scornful attitude towards Bobby both the previous evening and just a few minutes ago.

"I'm sorry I didn't believe you, Bobby, but you have to admit that you were pulling every trick in the book to get out of it."

Bobby grimaced. She was right about that, whether he was willing to admit it or not.

"I just don't like being forced into things like that. I'm not a lecturer."

Carolyn closed her hand gently over his shoulder, and was quietly dismayed at the heat she felt coming through his shirt. He had a fever, and an intense one at that.

"Let me call Deakins right now. I'll tell him."

Once more, Bobby shook his head.

"No. I'll do it… I'll give the lecture tomorrow morning. I'll be okay."

"Are you kidding me?" Carolyn retorted. "A minute ago you were coughing up blood! What on earth makes you think you'll be fine standing up on a stage for two hours?"

"I'll do it," Bobby insisted. "I will… But after tomorrow…"

"After tomorrow, you'll be lucky if you don't land yourself in the hospital," Carolyn growled, although there was clear resignation in her voice. She knew damned well that she couldn't make him change his mind, once he'd decided categorically to do something. "Eames is going to have your hide, you realise."

Bobby answered that with a grimace.

"I'll deal with that when I have to."

* * *

_tbc..._


	2. Collapse

A/N: _For those of you who haven't made the connection, yes, this is a follow-on from my **Deliverance-Blood Moon-Remembrance** trio of stories. Now, even if you haven't read the latter two, it might help if you refresh your memories with the events of **Deliverance**. And that's the only hint I'm giving._

_Oh, and btw. Don't panic. I hope to have a new chapter of **The Long Road Home** posted before the end of today._

* * *

Drs Cameron, Foreman and Chase were used to having the first hour or so of their day to themselves, particularly on days that they had no case to work on. Their immediate boss, Dr Gregory House, was frequently prone to wandering in whenever it suited him; usually, when he should have been in attendance at the clinic.

Hence, all three were surprised when the door swung open and House looked in at them.

"Grab your coats, kids. We're going off-site."

Then he was gone, leaving the three to scramble themselves and chase after him.

* * *

"Where are we going?" Cameron asked as they hurried to catch up to their limping mentor.

"Probably to break into someone's place," Foreman muttered. House spared him a disdainful glance.

"We've been invited to attend a lecture."

"A lecture?" Chase echoed. "Are you kidding us?"

"You hate attending lectures," Cameron pointed out.

"This isn't a medical lecture," House elaborated. "It's in the Police Science Faculty."

All three young doctors exchanged mystified looks, none of them daring to ask the obvious question. They were almost to the hospital exit when a familiar voice stopped all four of them in their tracks.

"House? Where do you think you're going?"

House turned back, an indifferent expression on his face as his best friend, Dr James Wilson, walked over with a look of mixed incredulity and amusement on his face.

"And shouldn't you be in the clinic?" Wilson added dubiously.

"Finished my four hours for the week yesterday," House informed him with a suspicious amount of cheer. "I even saw patients, and everything."

"You never learn," Wilson groaned. "Cuddy is going to kill you, I swear to God. And I won't be there to pick up the pieces!"

"Why don't you come with us?" House asked.

"I can't! I'm on duty! And so are you, in case it slipped your attention!"

"C'mon, it won't kill you to play hooky, just once." House sidled in close to Wilson. "C'mon, Wilson, live dangerously. You know you want to."

"Where _are_ you going?" Wilson asked, more than a hint of curiosity coming through in his voice.

"To attend a lecture over in the Police Science Faculty. The subject of our interest is one Detective Robert Goren, of the New York City Police Department who, I believe, is suffering from an increasingly severe case of bronchial pneumonia."

"And you know this because…?" Wilson pressed.

"I saw him in the clinic yesterday and, unlike most of the morons I usually have to deal with, this guy was actually sick. However, like most stubborn idiots, he refused to do the right thing and insisted on giving his lecture this morning. Even though he didn't want to give it in the first place which, in my opinion, makes him an even bigger idiot when he had a perfectly good excuse to get out of it…"

"And you're going to listen to him now because…?" Wilson wondered.

"Two reasons. I want to be there to say 'I told you so' when he can't get through it. Second, I'm curious to know exactly how he ended up permanently in a leg brace, and what's so special about him that he didn't get booted off the NYPD because of it. After he collapses and we have to admit him, he won't be able to run away from me and I can bug him until he tells me."

Wilson blinked.

"You're a real son of a bitch. Anyone ever tell you that."

"Yeah. You. All the time. So are you coming, or not?"

Wilson couldn't quite hide the smirk that was fighting to surface on his face.

"Let me grab my coat."

* * *

Half an hour later, the five doctors sat in the front row of a large lecture hall, watching as the detective in question made his way slowly onto the stage. Though most of the attendees might not have noticed, the doctors all had no difficulty picking up on the very distinct signs of severe illness.

"Did he look that bad when you saw him yesterday?" Wilson asked in a low voice. House shook his head.

"Nope. He looks a lot worse this morning."

"He should have been admitted yesterday," Foreman said.

"Gosh, now why didn't I think of that?" House snapped. "Oh, right. We can't admit people to hospital against their will and, darn it, he just wasn't far enough incapacitated."

Foreman rolled his eyes, and settled back to watch and listen.

* * *

Nearly an hour and a half later, although it was painfully obvious that the detective's condition was worsening, the collapse that House had predicted was yet to happen.

"He's tough," Wilson murmured with a hint of admiration in his voice.

"He looks like he can barely stand up," Chase retorted. "The guy's an idiot. He could have wrapped this up half an hour ago."

"That leg must really be hurting him," Cameron said. "See how he keeps leaning his weight onto his left leg? Poor guy…"

House shot her an incredulous look.

"Now why don't you go all gooey like that with me? I've got a crippled leg, too."

Cameron rolled her eyes, and chose to ignore him.

* * *

From the side of the stage, Carolyn Barek stood watching Bobby closely. She was genuinely afraid now for his physical wellbeing, after he'd suffered a long night of severely broken rest.

She feared he was on the brink of collapse, but nothing she'd said to him earlier that morning had convinced him to pull out of giving the lecture.

It was truly ironic, she thought grimly. When he'd been healthy, he'd tried everything to get out giving the lecture. Now that he was sick, though, and had a genuine reason to pull out of the obligation, he refused to grab the opportunity.

She didn't understand his logic, and had no intention of trying.

He'd finished the actual lecture now, and was fielding questions from the students. Her trained eye easily picked out the way he held onto the lectern with a death grip. He was barely able to stay on his feet, and she could only pray that he ended it soon, before he did irreparable damage to himself.

* * *

Bobby was answering question purely by rote, his brain jammed on autopilot while his body desperately fought off the effects of his worsening illness.

Contrary to what Carolyn believed, he had seriously considered pulling out of giving the lecture, until he'd spotted Dr House sitting in the front row of the auditorium, flanked by four other doctors. At that point, he'd shrugged off any notion of pulling out and letting Barek do the lecture instead. He was not going to give the son of a bitch that sort of satisfaction, and so he'd limped onto the stage and begun the lecture.

Half an hour in, and he'd begun to seriously regret his decision. An hour in, and it was all he could do to keep his brain on track. Now, he was finding it a struggle just to stay on his feet, let alone stay lucid and answer the questions that were being fired at him from all directions.

He coughed hard, wincing at the pain that shot through his ribs as he did so. He reached for the nearby glass of water automatically, sipping carefully to avoid sending himself into a choking fit. Then, setting the water back down on the top of the lectern, he went on speaking.

* * *

"Check it out," Chase said softly. "There's blood in the water."

House sat forward slowly, his senses pricking up. Chase was right. When the detective had taken that last sip of water, blood had passed from his mouth back into the glass. By all appearances, though, Bobby wasn't even aware that he had blood in his mouth.

He had to concede that he'd started to wonder whether Bobby might have made it through the full lecture after all. As Wilson had said, he _was_ tough. The blood was a telltale sign, though. A collapse was imminent, House was sure of it.

* * *

In the end, it happened quite quickly. Bobby was in the middle of answering a question when he suddenly stopped, staring ahead blankly and gripping the sides of the lectern.

Confused silence descended on the auditorium as Bobby simply stood there, neither moving nor speaking. At the side of the stage, Carolyn took a slow step forward, sensing impending trouble, and getting ready to walk out there and put an end to the lecture.

She didn't have the chance. A moment later, Bobby's strength finally gave out. The leg that wasn't supported by a calliper buckled beneath him and he fell forward, his full body weight collapsing against the lectern.

Unfortunately for Bobby, the lectern wasn't secured to the stage floor. His weight caused the lectern to tip forward and go crashing off the stage, falling a good metre and a half to the floor below.

Unable to stop his momentum, Bobby tumbled after it, his body first hitting the fallen lectern, and then landing hard on the polished wood floor.

His head struck the very edge of the lectern as he landed, and his world exploded with pain before fading to black.

* * *

Barek got there first, darting across the stage and jumping down to the floor beside her collapsed colleague.

"Someone, call an ambulance!" she shouted, her attention focused exclusively on Bobby.

"No need," House stated calmly as he joined her. "I've got one waiting outside."

Wilson looked at him incredulously, taking care to step aside as Chase moved in to do what he could for Bobby.

"You're kidding me. You've had an ambulance waiting this whole time?"

House shrugged. "Someone owed me a favour." He paused, taking in the look his friend was giving him, and then added, "A really, _really_ big favour. Cameron, be a good girl and go get the nice paramedics."

"Better hurry," Chase said tensely from where he knelt beside Bobby. "His vitals are slipping. If we don't get some oxygen into his lungs fast, he'll start seizing."

"All right," House retorted. "Let's not panic." He glanced around at the huge crowd of Police Science students who were still there, watching the unfolding scene with morbid fascination. "And someone get those students out of here! This isn't a damn sideshow."

* * *

Ten minutes later, Carolyn stood back, watching in numb shock as her colleague was finally lifted into an ambulance for transport to the hospital.

"Why don't you come with us?" Wilson asked gently, diverting her attention as House climbed awkwardly into the ambulance after the paramedics. Finally, she nodded, too stunned to object.

"He'll be okay," Chase assured her as they led her towards their car. "He's in good hands."

Carolyn didn't respond to that. All she could think of as she allowed herself to be led towards the car park was that Alex Eames was going to kill her for not taking better care of her partner.

* * *

House sat in silence, watching as the medic worked to keep the sick detective stable. His motives for going in the ambulance were purely selfish, of course, and he had no problems admitting that. He desperately wanted Bobby to wake up so that he could hit him with one really big 'I told you so'. So far, though, his newest patient just wasn't cooperating.

It was just as the ambulance was reversing up to the ER doors that Bobby suddenly moaned, and his eyes flickered open.

"Detective Goren?" the medic asked loudly, causing House to cringe. "Can you hear me?"

"He'd have to be deaf not to," House muttered. The paramedic ignored him. He knew House only too well.

Confused and disoriented, Bobby reached for the oxygen mask, to pull it off. Anxious to keep it in place, the medic pulled his hand away and pinned it carefully to his side.

House started a little in surprise as Bobby suddenly began to writhe in a panic. Jerking his hand free, he ripped the oxygen mask from his face.

"Get away from me," he gasped, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth as he spoke.

"Detective, I'm just trying to help you," the medic insisted.

"Erik, you sick bastard," Bobby moaned, oblivious to the medic's attempts at reassurance. "You think I'll let you hurt us again? You'll never do that to us again. I'll kill you before you do…"

"Damn, he's hallucinating," the medic shouted to his colleague as he struggled to keep Bobby pinned down. "Tony, I need some help. Get this thing parked, and get your ass back here!"

"What's his body temperature?" House asked, drawing an incredulous look from the medic.

"Are you fucking kidding? He's in the middle of a hallucination, and you want to know what his body temperature is?"

"That's _why_ I want to know," House snapped. Shaking his head, the medic finally did as House demanded. A moment later, he looked up in confusion.

"This… This isn't right. He's doesn't have a fever… His temperature is completely normal. He shouldn't be hallucinating."

House sat back, a thoughtful frown on his face. The pneumonia would have explained the hallucinations, if there had been a fever. But there _was_ no fever. So what had just caused the detective to start hallucinating…?

* * *

Dr Lisa Cuddy strode into the ER, fuming and ready to take out her anger on the first unfortunate soul to get in her way. It had been bad enough that House and his team had disappeared two hours ago, going off-site from the hospital, but they had convinced Wilson to go as well. She was angry at all of them, but at House most of all.

Now, she'd been told that he was apparently in the ER, and that had made her angrier still, that he'd hidden from her in the one place she honestly wouldn't have thought to look for him.

She paused just inside the ER, looking around for wherever he was hiding. It was a good couple of minutes before she finally spotted him, and she quickly realised why it had taken so long. Rather than hiding in a corner, or behind some curtain, House was standing in plain sight, doing something that, where he was concerned, was completely unexpected. He was actually supervising the emergency treatment of a patient.

"What the hell is going on?" she demanded as she joined him. "First you disappear with your entourage, and you take Wilson with you…"

"There was a totally legitimate reason, honestly…"

"Shut up, and let me finish. Now, I find you here in the ER! What is going on?"

House motioned towards Bobby's semi-conscious form.

"We have here a forty-three year old male, presenting with symptoms suggesting bronchial pneumonia. I saw him in the clinic yesterday and, against my advice, he went on to give a lecture this morning, which he collapsed in the middle of. On the way here in the ambulance, he started hallucinating…"

Cuddy shrugged. "Fever from the pneumonia…"

"I had the medics check his body temperature. He didn't have a fever. He still doesn't."

"But that's impossible," Cuddy argued. "He can't have pneumonia, and _not_ have a fever."

"So I diagnosed incorrectly," House said calmly. "He doesn't have pneumonia."

"Then what does he have?" Cuddy asked. House shrugged.

"Haven't got a clue."

Cuddy sighed.

"But you want the case, right?"

House didn't answer, only smiled.

* * *

_tbc..._


	3. Digging For Answers

A/N: _By popular request... (aka, threats and pleas. Mostly threats...)_

* * *

Bobby opened his eyes slowly to a whiteness that nearly blinded him. Groaning softly, he shut them again, unable to cope with the brightness that assaulted his senses.

"Hang on, Bobby. Let me close the curtains."

His brow creased in momentary confusion. He knew that voice. Barek…

He listened half-heartedly to the sound of curtains being rustled. Then, her voice spoke again.

"There. Try opening your eyes now."

He did, and was relieved to find that the lights had all been dimmed, and the curtains drawn. A moment later, he found himself staring up into Carolyn's concerned features.

"Hey," she said gently in greeting once she was sure his attention was on her. "How are you feeling?"

"Sore," he mumbled.

"I don't doubt it. That was a pretty spectacular fall you took."

He was silent for a long moment, processing her words in his exhausted mind.

"I… fell? When?"

"You don't remember?"

"Last thing I remember is waiting to go on stage to give the lecture."

"Oh boy," Carolyn murmured. "Okay… Well, you made it through the lecture okay, but you collapsed in the middle of answering questions. You fell right off the stage, Bobby, lectern and all. It was a damned good thing that you landed on it, and not the other way around. Otherwise, you would have had more than just bruises."

He sighed faintly. He was glad he didn't remember that. The pain aside, it would have been damned embarrassing.

"Where am I? This isn't the hotel… is it?"

"No. You've been admitted to the hospital, Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. There was a doctor from here at the lecture… Actually there were five doctors there… Anyway, one of them actually had an ambulance waiting, like he knew you were going to collapse."

Bobby groaned softly.

"Son of a bitch…"

"I heard that."

Both Bobby and Carolyn looked around as House walked in.

"What do you want?" Bobby muttered sourly. "An apology?"

House shook his head.

"Nope. Actually, I've been called a lot worse than that. Anyway, you can take comfort in knowing that you spoiled my fun."

"Excuse me?" Carolyn cut in incredulously. "Your _fun_?"

"I went to the trouble of riding with you in the ambulance," House went on to Bobby, "and you didn't even have the decency to wake up enough for me to say it."

Once again, Bobby groaned softly.

"Fine. Go ahead and say it. Get it over with."

"Well, there's no fun in it now," House retorted. "The moment's gone forever."

"Please tell me another doctor is treating me?" Bobby pleaded.

"I probably could have, if we knew what was wrong with you," House said glibly. Carolyn stepped forward, then, increasingly irritated by House's blasé attitude.

"What do you mean, you don't know?" she demanded. "I thought it was bronchial pneumonia?"

House suddenly looked at her as though seeing her for the first time.

"I'm sorry… You are…?"

Her expression turned stony at what she perceived as his dismissal of her presence.

"Detective Carolyn Barek, Major Case Squad, NYPD."

House regarded her offhandedly, and then looked back at Bobby.

"Is she your partner?"

"No. Colleague."

"So… You're just sleeping together, then?"

Carolyn went bright red, and House suspected that Bobby might have as well, had he not been too sick to care.

"Just colleagues," Carolyn insisted, struggling to keep her voice even. House nodded, his interest already going elsewhere.

"Who is Erik?"

Bobby froze, his already ashen features turning a brand new shade of pale.

"What…?"

"Erik," House repeated. "You started hallucinating in the ambulance. You thought the paramedic was someone called Erik. Who is he? Is he the guy that broke your leg?"

Bobby fell silent, not knowing how to even start explaining Erik Mathers to the doctor.

"If it isn't pneumonia, then what's wrong with him?" Carolyn asked, in an effort to redirect House's attention. House shrugged.

"Don't know. But don't worry. I promise I'll do my best to figure it out before you die."

Bobby stared at House through eyes that were already starting to slide shut from sick exhaustion.

"Any chance of a… a medical transfer… back to New York…?"

"I wouldn't recommend it," House said. He paused, then added seriously, "We'll figure it out. I promise you."

Those words were the last that Bobby heard before falling asleep once more.

* * *

Dr Alison Cameron stared at her colleagues in open disbelief.

"House is actually with a patient? You're kidding me…"

Chase and Foreman exchanged grins.

"For the third time, no we're not," Foreman said. "He supervised the cop's treatment in the ER, and last we knew he was hanging around upstairs in ICU waiting for him to wake up."

"Just for a simple case of pneumonia?"

"Not so simple anymore," House stated, startling all three as he abruptly walked through the door. "Our pneumonia guy started hallucinating in the ambulance."

"That's not unusual," Cameron pointed out. "If he had a high enough fever…"

"He had no fever," House said flatly.

"That's impossible," Foreman argued, and Chase nodded in agreement.

"He couldn't have pneumonia and _not_ have a fever."

House nodded.

"Exactly." He headed over to the whiteboard and picked up a marker. "So what might present with symptoms for pneumonia, with a fever that comes and goes?"

"Rabies," Foreman muttered. House gave him the look of a long-suffering parent, but otherwise chose to ignore the suggestion.

"Anyone else?"

"Meningitis," Chase suggested.

"Viral meningitis would present with extreme, constant fever," Cameron said.

"But with bacterial meningitis the fever comes and goes," Chase argued. House nodded, satisfied with that as a starting point.

"Hotel rooms are veritable Petri dishes of bacteria. Foreman, Chase, pay a visit to the good detective's hotel room, and see what you can come up with. Cameron, get his medical history from him when he wakes up next… and try to get the story on that leg while you're at it. And in the meantime, let's start him on a full course of antibiotics for bacterial meningitis."

* * *

Carolyn looked up as the door opened, and a young female doctor walked in, coffee in hand.

"I wasn't sure how you liked it," Cameron said as she handed the cup to Carolyn.

"This is fine, thanks," Carolyn murmured appreciatively.

Cameron hesitated, looking with sympathy at Bobby, who was fast asleep.

"I need to get his medical history."

"Please, don't disturb him," Carolyn begged. "Not yet. He hardly got any sleep at all last night."

"I don't suppose you can tell me anything?"

Carolyn smiled apologetically.

"Sorry, you're asking the wrong person. I don't know him well enough."

"You're not partners?"

"No," Carolyn murmured. "We're with the same squad, but we have different partners. Tell me something… Sorry, what's your name?"

"Alison Cameron."

"Dr Cameron, do you work with Dr House?"

It took considerable willpower on Cameron's behalf not to cringe. She could guess what was likely to follow _that_ question. She could tell from the detective's tone of voice.

"Yes. He's my supervisor."

"Is he for real?"

"He's unorthodox," Cameron conceded, "but he's brilliant. Detective Goren is in good hands with him."

Carolyn sighed softly. Unorthodox, but brilliant. Mike had used those exact same words to describe Bobby to her during her very first day with Major Case. At the time, she hadn't been able to understand the admiration in Mike's voice when he was telling her about Bobby Goren and Alex Eames. Then, she'd read the special file on them – the victims' report from nearly two years ago, and she finally understood.

"Okay," she said quietly. "That's good enough for me."

Cameron barely had time to be surprised at Carolyn's acceptance of the acerbic House before the shrill sound of Carolyn's cell phone ringing startled them both. Grimacing, Carolyn answered it with extreme reluctance.

"Barek… Oh, Captain Deakins… Yes, he gave the lecture. Um… I don't think he's going to be able to do anymore than that, though… Sorry, sir…? No! He really is s…"

Cameron watched as Carolyn waited for the tirade to end, and end it finally did, with the call being cut off very abruptly at the other end.

"That was your boss?" Cameron wondered, and Carolyn answered with a grim nod of her head.

"Yes. He wasn't too happy."

"What's it for, all these lectures?" Cameron asked.

"Someone from the faculty here contacted our Police Commissioner and asked if he could spare a couple of his best police profilers for two weeks to talk to the students. Bobby's name was at the top of the list. I'm here because I work in the same squad. Neither of us was happy about it, but our captain put his foot down. He seemed to think that we… Bobby, in particular… owed it to the Commissioner to cooperate." She sighed softly. "Bobby was supposed to give a second lecture this afternoon. The proverbial is really going to hit the fan when it gets back to Deakins that I took it instead."

"Well, it isn't as though he has a choice in that anymore," Cameron pointed out. "But if you're really worried, Dr House might be willing to speak to your captain. I mean, normally he wouldn't, but he seems to have taken a particular interest in Detective Goren. This time, he might make an exception."

"He may need to anyway," Carolyn admitted. "If Bobby gets too sick to make decisions for himself, I think you'll find that it's Captain Deakins who has medical proxy for him."

Cameron nodded.

"We'll work that issue out if and when we come to it."

"Do you have any idea at all what's wrong with him?" Carolyn asked.

"We're trying the treatment for bacterial meningitis," Cameron told her. "Hopefully, that will turn out to be effective."

"Meningitis?" Carolyn echoed incredulously. "How would he have gotten that?"

"That's one of the things we're investigating."

Carolyn smiled at that.

"Investigating, huh? You play detective a lot?"

Cameron smiled as well.

"With Dr House? All the time. It's what he's best at, finding out what's wrong with people. That's why Detective Goren is best off right where he is."

Carolyn nodded her acceptance.

"I believe you."

Cameron hesitated, and then spoke tentatively.

"What happened to his leg? It's just, we did an x-ray when he was brought in, to make sure he hadn't broken it falling off the stage, and I don't think I've ever seen a leg that's suffered so many breaks."

"I can answer that," Carolyn said quietly, "but it's not my place. Bobby and his partner, Alex, are the only ones with the right to tell that story."

"Must have been pretty bad, then," Cameron mused, her curiosity hopelessly aroused.

"It was," Carolyn murmured, thinking back to the victims' report that she'd read, and the awful photos that had accompanied that report. "It was about as bad as you can possibly imagine. No one should ever have to go through what they did."

Before Cameron had the chance to ask anything further, a faint moan followed by a painful, hacking cough alerted them to the fact that Bobby was awake.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" Carolyn asked gently.

"Like… like crap," Bobby whispered.

"Well, we hope we'll be able to turn that around for you fairly soon," Cameron assured him. "In the meantime, Detective Goren, I need to get your medical history. Do you feel up to answering some questions?"

"On one condition."

Cameron raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"And what's that?"

"That everyone quits calling me 'Detective Goren'. It's just Bobby."

Cameron smiled.

"Okay, Bobby."

* * *

"Well?" House asked as Cameron walked back into his office.

"You're going to love this. Family history of schizophrenia. His mother is an institutionalised paranoid schizophrenic."

House grunted unintelligibly. Cameron relayed everything else that she'd learnt. When she finished, House regarded her with disappointment.

"Nada on the leg?"

"The other detective said he might be willing to open up over it if his partner was here."

"What, he needs her to hold his hand? You could have offered. He's your type, after all. Damaged…"

Cameron glared at him.

"That was below the belt."

"My specialty. Are Chase and Foreman back yet?"

"No."

"Well, go find out where they are. Make sure they haven't gotten themselves arrested." He got up, looking even more sour if that was at all possible. "I'll be in the clinic."

"Haven't you already done your four hours for the week?" Cameron asked in confusion.

"Cuddy found out that I skipped out after seeing the good detective yesterday. She told me to make it up today, or she'll have me in the clinic every day for a month."

Cameron smirked as he headed out the door.

"Them's the breaks."

"I heard that," his voice floated back to her. Smiling to herself, Cameron followed him out to do as he'd asked.

* * *

_tbc..._


	4. Calling For Reinforcements

_A/N: I was planning on spacing out these installments, but who am I kidding...? If anyone has any thoughts or ideas on this story, please feel free to voice them to me. I welcome any suggestions and criticisms.

* * *

_

Some hours later

Cuddy, Wilson and House were on their way back from the clinic when they spotted Carolyn sitting in the waiting room, staring at her cell phone with obvious dread. Unable to resist, House made his way over to her.

"Waiting for a call from that special someone, Detective?"

She glanced up and, to her credit, actually smiled.

"I wish. No, my captain's due to call. He should have found out by now that I gave the lecture this afternoon, and not Bobby. He's going to hit the roof over it. I already spoke to him once today, and he never gave me a chance to tell him that Bobby really is sick. It's strange. Normally he's a lot more reasonable than this, especially where Bobby's concerned. But this time, he's been completely blinkered, and won't listen at all."

"Come with us," Cuddy told her. "We'll go to my office, and you can call him directly from there."

"Why…?"

Cuddy shot House a tight, knowing smile.

"I have a speaker phone there."

* * *

_One Police Plaza,  
__New York City_

"You know," Mike said to Alex as they waited in Deakins' office for the captain to return, "I don't think I've ever seen Deakins so pissed off at Bobby as he is right now."

Alex grimaced. The truth was, neither had she. When word had reached them that Bobby had apparently blown off that afternoon's lecture claiming to be sick, Deakins had hit the roof. The organiser had apparently tried to tell Deakins something else, but the captain had hung up on him before he could. Now, Deakins was planning to call and give Bobby a verbal serve for shirking his responsibility.

Why the captain wanted her and Mike there, she didn't know, and she fervently wished she was anywhere else but there right at that moment.

Deakins strode back into the office, looking as angry as he had before he left. Before he had a chance to say or do anything, though, his phone rang. Scowling, Deakins reached over and hit the button to send the call directly to speaker phone.

"Deakins."

"Captain, this is Barek…"

"Barek, what the hell is going on over there?" Deakins exploded. "And where the hell is Goren?"

"Sir, that's why I'm calling you. About Bobby…"

"He'd better have a damned good explanation for missing that lecture," Deakins said, his voice going low and threatening. On the other end, Carolyn cringed at the sound. He really was royally pissed off…

"Sir, he does have a good reason. He's sick…"

"He already tried that one, Detective. I would have thought you were smarter than to fall for it."

"No, sir. I mean he really is sick. He…"

"You really expect me to believe that?" Deakins snapped impatiently. "Damn it, Barek…"

"Well, perhaps if you'd shut the hell up long enough for her to finish a sentence, you might actually hear something that you **will** believe"

Deakins fell momentarily silent at the new, unfamiliar voice. On the other side of the desk, Mike and Alex exchanged bemused looks, wondering who would have the balls to speak to their captain like that.

"Who is that?" Deakins demanded finally.

"This is Dr Gregory House," the voice replied sharply. "I'm the guy who's trying to save your detective's life. You, apparently, are the idiot who'd rather let him die than swallow your pride for five minutes and just listen."

Sitting across from House, Carolyn winced a little at the below-the-belt blow, while Cuddy and Wilson exchanged rueful looks.

On the other end of the line, Deakins had fallen very abruptly silent. He looked up at Alex and Mike, who returned his gaze with similarly stunned expressions. After several seconds, he spoke again with forced calm.

"Carolyn, what is going on there?"

She spoke again, confident that this time he wouldn't cut her off.

"Sir, Bobby was getting sick yesterday, but he did the lecture this morning anyway because he didn't want to let you down."

"Nice touch," House encouraged her, his voice laced to the max with sarcasm. "Go for the guilt."

Carolyn ignored him, and went on grimly.

"He gave the lecture, but he collapsed in the middle of answering questions…"

"He collapsed?" Alex burst out, no longer able to keep silent. "How do you mean, he collapsed?"

"Judging from the simpering concern in your voice," House said before Carolyn could reply, "you must be the partner."

Again, Carolyn winced, though this time for a different reason. House did _not_ know what he was letting himself in for if he was thinking of verbally engaging Alex Eames.

"Yes," came the terse reply. "Detective Goren is my partner."

"Interesting," House mused at her choice of words. "Well, by 'collapsed', Detective Barek means that Detective Goren fainted and fell off the stage. It was actually a pretty spectacular end to the lecture."

Cuddy spoke up then, deciding that she'd allowed House enough of a free reign.

"This is Dr Lisa Cuddy. I'm the Dean of Medicine and Hospital Administrator at the Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Detective Goren has been admitted under the care of Dr House."

"What exactly is wrong with him?" Deakins asked in a noticeably subdued voice.

"We haven't been able to determine the exact cause of Detective Goren's illness as yet, but I promise you that we're doing everything we can to figure it out."

"How bad is it?" Alex asked abruptly. House spoke before Cuddy could, but this time there was no hint of mockery or sarcasm in his voice.

"He's stable at the moment, but unless we can find out what's wrong with him soon, he could be critical within a couple of days, and dead within a week."

"Captain Deakins," Cuddy said quickly, "Detective Barek said you have the authority of medical proxy for Detective Goren?"

"Yes," Deakins answered, "but I can't leave New York at the moment. You think it might be necessary?"

"It's very likely that it will be necessary," Cuddy confirmed, and they could hear Deakins sigh on the other end of the line.

"Well, then, he'll have to sign proxy over to someone else."

"It can't be me," Carolyn said, pre-empting Deakins. "He doesn't know me well enough to trust me like that."

"I'll do it," Alex offered, but Deakins answered negatively.

"No, Eames. I'm sorry, but you're too close to him. If any hard decisions have to be made, you're not going to want to be the one who has to make them. Logan…"

"What, me?" he answered, and Carolyn grinned at her partner's startled exclamation. "Are you nuts? With all due respect, Captain, Goren's never going to sign medical proxy over to me."

"It doesn't matter," Deakins said dismissively. "He's not going to have a choice. I want you to get out there, you and Alex both."

"One more thing," House spoke up quickly, sensing the call was about to be ended. "Who is Erik?"

The question was met with absolute silence, dead silence.

"Why do you want to know that?" Deakins asked finally, the tension in his voice only too obvious.

"Your detective started hallucinating," House explained. "He thought the paramedic was someone called Erik. Tried to take the guy's head off, actually, so I'm guessing that whoever Erik is, he's probably not a nice person."

Again, silence. Then, there was the loud crash of a door being slammed, and Deakins cursing softly.

"Barek," Deakins said tensely, "I'm sending Eames and Logan straight away. They'll be there tonight."

Then, the line cut out.

* * *

"I told you," Carolyn said quietly to House as Cuddy hung up the phone at their end. "That's a highly sensitive subject. You can't manipulate them into telling you."

"Okay," House said amiably. "How about this, then? I _need_ to know exactly what happened to him, because there's every possibility that it has something to do with why he's sick now."

Carolyn frowned, puzzled.

"But that happened nearly two years ago. It couldn't possibly be relevant to what's wrong with him now, could it?"

House shook his head in irritation.

"Everyone's a doctor. I need to know everything, because there's no telling what may be having a negative effect, depending on what he's previously been exposed to."

Carolyn bit her lower lip lightly. As much as she hated to admit it, his reasoning was logical.

"It's not my story to tell," she said finally, and House rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"Were we suddenly transported into _The Young and the Stupid_? This isn't a soap opera, Detective, and we may not have time to dramatise things for the sake of effects!"

"I'm not trying to," Carolyn snapped back. "And I'm not trying to be moralistic, either. I didn't join Major Case until three months ago, and I wasn't around when it all happened. But my partner, Mike Logan, was. He can tell you. Between him, Bobby and Alex, they can give you pretty much the whole story. There is no point in me even trying to tell you, because you wouldn't get all the details that you need. And as far as Alex is concerned… She won't be happy about it, but she'll tell you if you make it clear to her that it's for Bobby's sake. You put it on that footing, and she'll tell you everything."

House stared at her for a long moment before nodding, momentarily placated.

"Okay. I'll be looking forward to it."

* * *

"Hey," Carolyn greeted Bobby as she rejoined him. "How are you feeling?"

"No better," he mumbled. He drew in a shuddering breath, and looked up at her with eyes that were bright with renewed fever. "They don't know what's wrong yet, do they?"

"They have a few ideas. At the moment, they're treating you for bacterial meningitis."

"Meningitis? That's not what I have."

She regarded him in amusement. "And you know this because…?"

"Had meningitis once before. When… when I was a teenager. It was different to this. I… I've felt like this before… Once before…"

"When?" she asked softly, hoping he might be able to give a clue as to the reason for his illness. He seemed to think about it before finally shaking his head in distress.

"I… I can't remember."

She brushed her fingertips lightly over his forehead, trying to soothe his distress.

"It's okay, Bobby. I have something to tell you that might cheer you up a little. Deakins is sending Alex and Mike out here."

He blinked hard, as though trying to focus, and she waited patiently for her words to sink in.

"Alex…? She… She's coming?"

"Yes. She should be here by this evening."

Bobby sighed in audible relief.

"So… Deakins knows?"

"Yes. He knows what's happened, and he knows you're in the hospital. Don't worry about it, Bobby. Everything's taken care of at that end. He's not angry at you. Not anymore. Just really worried."

Bobby sighed softly.

"Didn't mean to make him worry."

She took a damp cloth and gently rubbed it over his hot face.

"He'll know that, Bobby. Try not to think about it. Just focus on getting over this… whatever it is."

"Have you talked to House?"

"Sort of. He was the one who made the captain actually listen to me, and not just rant at me."

"You… You think I can trust him?"

Carolyn sighed.

"Well, from all I've heard, the man is a complete ass, but he's also among the best there is. Unconventional, but brilliant, I think is what I was told. Just like a certain Major Case detective I know."

Bobby still looked unsettled, though.

"Does… Does he still want to know about M… Mathers?"

"Yes," Carolyn confirmed. "Bobby, he said it's possible that something that happened even two years ago could be affecting you now. I didn't tell them anything, though. I said that between you, Alex and Mike, you might be able to tell the whole story, but that it was up to you and Alex."

"Thankyou," Bobby whispered. Carolyn continued running the damp cloth over his face, and stroking his forehead gently. He was so damned hot…

"Just rest, Bobby."

He fell asleep to the soothing touch of her fingertips lightly stroking his forehead.

* * *

_tbc..._


	5. An Unwanted Scare

Mike and Alex arrived early that evening, stopping off at the hotel just long enough to deposit their bags before going on to the hospital. A couple of succinct questions at the Reception counter, and they were quickly directed up to ICU, to the room where Bobby was being monitored. They walked in to find Carolyn sitting by his bedside while he slept, holding his hand gently. She looked around as they came in, and the relief in her eyes was visible to them both.

"Oh god, he really is sick," Alex whispered softly as she walked over to stand on the other side of the bed. Carolyn nodded wordlessly, rubbing self-consciously at her eyes.

"Do they know what's wrong with him yet?" Mike asked in an equally soft voice.

"No, they're still running tests," Carolyn answered. "They've run so many tests since they brought him in, I've lost track of them all. Last I heard, they were testing him for different kinds of meningitis. Bobby didn't think that's what it is, though. He said he remembers feeling like this once before, but he couldn't remember when that might have been."

Before either Mike or Alex had a chance to respond, Bobby stirred, and his eyes flickered open.

"Hey, you," Alex murmured, leaning over him and cupping his cheek gently. Affectionately, she pressed her lips to his forehead, only to cringe at how feverish he was. He tried to smile, couldn't quite manage it, but the relief in his eyes at seeing Alex was all too clear.

"You big dope," she murmured, sitting down carefully on the edge of the bed. "Look at you… Why didn't you say you were really sick?"

"He tried," Carolyn said, her voice riddled with guilt. "I didn't believe him, not at first. I told him if he was so sick, to go see a doctor… and he did, and the doctor said he was sick, but he still went ahead with that lecture this morning."

"Bobby," Alex murmured, "don't try to talk, just listen to me. Mike's here, too. Deakins wants you to sign medical proxy over to him. Would you be willing to do that?"

Bobby drew in a shuddering breath. It was steadily getting harder to breathe. His chest was hurting, and he could feel his heart rate getting faster by the minute.

"Why… not you?" he asked hoarsely. Alex smiled wryly.

"You really think that would be a good idea? I'm too close to you, Bobby. If it gets much worse… I might not be able to make the decisions that are right for you."

Mike snorted.

"Yeah, like I could?"

Alex flashed him a threatening look before returning her attention to Bobby.

"Will you trust Mike for that, Bobby?"

Bobby managed a weak nod.

"'kay. He… wants to… to know about… Mathers."

Alex stiffened visibly.

"Who does?"

"Bobby's doctor," Carolyn explained grimly. "Dr House. He seems to think that something that happened during that… time… might be behind Bobby's illness now."

"That's ridiculous," Alex growled. "How could something that happened that long ago be making him sick now?"

"It's not as far-fetched as it sounds," a new voice said, and they looked around to see Foreman standing there. He offered Alex and Mike a reassuring smile.

"I'm Dr Foreman. I work with Dr House."

Mike shook hands with him, but Alex didn't leave Bobby's side.

"You were saying it's not that far-fetched?" she asked, and Foreman nodded.

"We've treated people with illnesses that were caused by things that happened to them as children. If something serious did happen to Bobby a couple of years ago, it's entirely possible that it's causing his illness now. That's why it's important that we find out exactly what went on."

Alex turned away, scowling.

"I'll email you the case file."

Foreman smiled sympathetically. He knew that attitude all too well. It was the same attitude he and his colleagues got every time House insisted they delve into the private lives of their patients.

"It really would be better coming from you directly."

Alex ignored him, her attention on her partner.

"Bobby?" she asked softly. He sighed tiredly, and managed to squeeze her hand just once.

"Tell them… if you can. S'okay, 'lex…"

He trailed off, his eyes sliding shut, and for the first time Alex noticed how grey his face had gone.

"Bobby?" she asked again, and this time there was a hint of fear in her voice. He didn't answer and, even as she stood there, his hand went limp in hers and slipped from her grasp, dropping back onto the bed with a soft thud. Foreman walked over to the bedside, gently urging Alex out of the way, and leaning in for a closer look at the detective.

"Okay," he said abruptly, with an urgency in his voice that none of them missed. "I need the three of you to leave, right now."

"Why?" Mike demanded to know. "What's going on?"

Foreman never had the opportunity to answer. Abruptly, the line on the machine that monitored Bobby's heart rate suddenly dipped and went flat-line. Foreman reached over to hit a button that sounded an alarm out in the administrative area of ICU, yelling over his shoulder at them.

"Out! Now!"

Mike finally reacted, grabbing both Alex and Carolyn by the hand and pulling them out of the room just as a swarm of doctors and nurses dashed in to respond to the emergency. They heard someone shouting for defibrillator paddles, and then the door slammed shut, the shades were pulled and there was nothing more they could do except wait and pray.

* * *

After what seemed an age, the door finally opened and Foreman emerged with Chase.

"You can breathe again," the second doctor told them gently. "We revived him."

Alex shuddered and slumped against Mike, who hugged her tightly as much for his reassurance as hers.

"What went wrong?" Carolyn asked, trying valiantly to keep her voice steady. It was a fright none of them had needed.

At that, the two doctors exchanged glances. The truth was that, as with the detective's mysterious illness, they had no idea what had suddenly sent him into cardiac arrest.

"We're going to be investigating that," Foreman assured them. "We'll figure it out."

"But will you figure it out in time?" Mike asked coolly.

"We're doing our best," Chase answered. Alex glowered at him.

"Are you Dr House?"

Chase glanced at Foreman. They both knew _that_ tone, too, and not for the first time, Chase was immensely relieved to be able to answer in the negative.

"No, I'm Dr Chase."

"Dr House is still in there?" Alex asked, nodding towards Bobby's room. At that, Chase shifted uneasily.

"Uh… Actually… No."

Alex's expression turned dangerous.

"No? You're telling me that my partner is supposed to be in the care of this Dr House, but he doesn't bother coming when this happens? Where is he?"

"Dr House operates differently to other doctors," Chase started to say, but Alex cut him off.

"Where is he, Dr Chase? And trust me, you don't want to make me ask that again."

When Chase looked to Mike questioningly, the other man only smirked and shrugged.

"I'd answer her if I were you. She's not lead detective in Major Case for nothing."

Chase grimaced. House was going to kill him.

"Come with me. I'll take you to him."

* * *

House spotted them as soon as they exited the lift, and his first instinct was to run. Unfortunately, they were already halfway along the corridor, and he couldn't move quickly enough to get away from them. His second instinct was to hide, but there was nowhere in the office to hide, and Wilson had taken to locking his outer office door to prevent him from walking in at any time.

By the time he'd come to the conclusion that there was no escaping, they were at the door. Two of his protégés and three police detectives, one of whom looked seriously pissed off. House sighed. Someone was going to pay. Someone, he deduced, whose name was Chase.

"House," Chase said, with enough apology in his tone to confirm House's suspicions about who was responsible for bringing the cops to his door before he was ready to deal with them. "This is…"

"No, let me guess," House cut in sharply. His gaze focused on the smallest of the group, a diminutive-looking blonde, whom House guessed would be the most easily intimidated. "You must be…"

"The simpering partner," Alex interrupted, her tone positively acidic. "Tell me something, Dr House. Are you, or are you not Bobby Goren's attending doctor?"

"Well, technically…"

"Technically," Alex hissed. "Well, _technically_, shouldn't you have been one of the first to respond when he went into cardiac arrest?"

House feigned a look on innocent shock.

"You mean there weren't any doctors in ICU to help him?"

"Of course there were," Alex snapped. "That's not the point."

"No, see, that _is_ the point," House snapped back. "That _is_ the _exact_ point. As long as there's _a_ doctor there at the time, it doesn't matter one bit _who_ it is."

"You're supposed to be his doctor!" Alex exploded. "What if he'd died?"

House shrugged.

"Then I wouldn't be his doctor anymore, would I?"

An instant later, House stumbled backwards as Alex dove forward, enraged by his callousness. It was only Mike anticipating the explosion and catching her around the waist that stopped her forward momentum and kept her from making actual physical contact with the crass doctor.

"Wow," House retorted, watching as Mike had to struggle to hold her back. "Quite the spitfire, isn't she?"

"You have no idea," Mike growled. "And unless you want me to let go of her, you'd better do something pretty damn quick to convince us that you're actively trying to help her partner."

House answered that with silence. He stared at Mike, and then at Alex. She'd stopped straining against him, but the look on her face was pure hellfire.

"Not here," he said finally. "Let's at least go somewhere that we can all sit down." He ushered them out of the office, throwing a threatening look in Chase's direction. "I'll deal with _you_ later."

* * *

House took them to a small, private lounge not too far away, and bade them sit.

"All right," he said shortly. "These are the facts. Detective Goren is a very sick man. No, we don't know what's wrong with him – **_yet_**. We are working on that, but we aren't going to be very successful if you won't step back and let us do our job." He paused, his gaze going to Mike. "Can I assume you're Logan?"

Mike nodded.

"Yeah, I'm Mike Logan."

"You're the one that's supposed to take over medical proxy for Detective Goren?"

Again, Mike nodded. He was starting to feel sick.

"Yeah, that's right."

"Okay," House muttered. He looked across at Alex. He'd been looking forward to grilling these cops, but his enthusiasm had been dampened somewhat by the attitude displayed by his patient's partner. There was something about her – and he would never admit this to anyone – that left him feeling intimidated. "You need to get him to sign that over to you as soon as possible, because it's entirely likely that he's going to hit a point soon where he'll be incapable of making decisions for himself."

"Jesus," Mike muttered. "Don't you have any idea at all what's wrong with him?"

"Well, that depends on all of you," House answered. He looked over at Alex, his gaze piercing. "I need to ask you questions about him, and I need completely truthful answers. Now, I know that might be a stretch for three New York detectives…"

"Watch it, pal," Mike growled. House didn't so much as bat an eye as he went on.

"We already have his medical history. What I want is a detailed account of his personal life."

"That's invasive, and unnecessary!" Alex snapped.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realise you had a medical degree," House snapped right back. "Maybe you'd like to diagnose him for us?"

Carolyn laid a hand gently on Alex's shoulder, trying to calm her down.

"Think about Bobby, Alex. It might help them work out what's wrong with him."

Alex sat stiffly for several long seconds before sighing and slumping down in the sofa seat.

"All right. Fine. What do you want to know?"

House leaned forward, focusing his most thoughtful look on her.

"How long have you been sleeping with your partner?"

The silence that met his question was profound, and it didn't escape House's attention that both Mike and Carolyn shifted away from Alex ever so slightly – not unlike someone backing away from a bomb that was about to detonate.

"What did you just say?" Alex asked softly, focusing a lethal stare at the doctor.

"What, you're going deaf now?" House retorted.

Alex's expression had turned distinctly dangerous by then, and though her colleagues, Foreman and Chase seemed to be aware of it, House wasn't showing any sign of intimidation at all. More fool him, thought Mike ruefully.

"I'm not sleeping with him. We're professional partners. Not romantic ones."

House snorted derisively.

"Right. Sure you're not."

"I am not…"

"Oh, come on!" House snapped. "It's not like you'd be the first person who ever broke the rules and bedded your partner! But if you care about him at all, you'll come clean and be honest about it!"

Alex sat frozen, her face a mask of fury.

"Is that what you think this is about?" she asked softly. "That he's picked up something… from sleeping with me? That that's what's making him sick? Some vague STD that you haven't identified yet? You think _I_ made my partner so sick that he might die?"

Carolyn and Mike had moved right out of arm's length by then, watching Alex worriedly. House, however, wasn't so much as breaking eye contact with her.

"Honestly? Yes. That's _exactly_ what I'm thinking, and believe me, it wouldn't be the first time it's happened."

Alex leaned forward, glaring furiously at House.

"I. Am. Not. Sleeping. With. My. Partner. Get it through your head right now, before you provoke me into doing something I won't regret."

"Oo," House taunted her. "Scary."

Mike grimaced. "Uh, Doc, you might like to know that you're taunting the one cop out of us who has actually fatally shot someone."

House glanced at him, and then looked back to Alex, in time to see her adjust her jacket to reveal a glimpse of her gun.

"So, you're just going to shoot me, then?" he asked flatly. "That would _really_ do wonders for your partner, wouldn't it?"

Alex didn't flinch at the blatant attempt at emotional blackmail.

"Maybe if you'd accept that not all cop partnerships lead to bed-hopping, then I wouldn't feel so much like I need to use it.

Silence descended as Alex and House stared at each other. House was used to most people backing down from a staring contest with him after just a few seconds, but this fiery female wasn't backing off. She returned his stare easily and, for the first time in a long while, House found himself unsettled. It had nothing to do with her gun, but rather her attitude. An attitude, he realised with mild alarm, was a mirror image of his own.

"Okay," he conceded finally, ignoring the startled looks from Foreman and Chase as he executed a strategic retreat by sitting back slowly in his own seat. "So, maybe you are telling the truth."

"Is there anything else you wanted to know?" Alex asked coldly.

"As a matter of fact, yes. Who is Erik Mathers?"

Alex sat stiffly for a long moment before speaking tersely.

"Why do you have to know about that? Why can't the past just be allowed to rest?"

"Hey, you want to keep it to yourself?" House retorted. "Be my guest. You can go back to ICU, sit by your partner, hold his hand, do whatever sweet little things you want to do, and _watch him die_. Or, you can answer my questions so that we might have a chance at finding out what's wrong with him, before you have to bury him!"

Alex sat silent and ashen-faced as House's words sank in.

"Is it really possible that something that happened two years ago could be making him sick now?"

"Not only is it possible," House answered in a gentler, but no less urgent tone, "it's very probable."

Alex pressed one hand over her face, feeling sick to her gut at the thought of having to relive that awful experience. Finally, though, she spoke in a soft voice.

"Erik Mathers was the serial killer who abducted me and Bobby. We were investigating a string of murders when he ambushed us at his brother's warehouse. He knocked Bobby out first… then me… and then he bundled us into his van and took us upstate, to Gore Mountain in the Adirondacks. He left us tied up in a cabin for two days before he set us loose."

"And that's it?" House asked. "What was the big deal about _that_?"

Alex pushed her hair roughly out of her eyes, the movement laced with suppressed aggression.

"I said he set us loose. I never said he let us go." She paused, drawing in a long breath as she recalled her first waking moments on the mountain. "Mathers left a note for us. We had three hours to run, and then he was coming after us. If we could avoid capture for three days, then he'd let us go. If he caught us before then, he was going to kill us."

"So his plan was to hunt you down?" Foreman asked incredulously. "Like animals?"

"Yes. He was a hunter, and humans were his preferred choice of prey. We were the latest in a long line of victims. He stripped us both down to our pants and shirts… He took our coats, jackets, shoes, socks… He did everything to give himself the advantage."

"Not everything," Mike corrected her gently. "Otherwise he would never have left you together. The stupid, psychotic son of a bitch totally underestimated the two of you."

"All right," House interrupted impatiently. "You can get sentimental and wax lyrical later on. What happened once this clown let you go? Oops, sorry. I mean, 'set you loose'."

Alex scowled, but went on softly. On either side of her, Mike and Carolyn listened in grim fascination. Even though Mike had been directly involved in the investigation, search and subsequent rescue, and had read both Bobby and Alex's individual victim's statements, he had never actually heard the story directly from either of them. It was almost like hearing it for the first time.

Carolyn, for her part, knew only what had been in the media. She'd never read the case file and, on coming to Major Case, had been strongly advised by both Mike and captain against raising the subject with either Alex or Bobby.

"We walked for nearly three hours," Alex said softly, reluctantly letting her mind slip back to the terrifying ordeal. "We'd stopped to rest when Mathers caught up to us."

"He was right behind you the whole time," Chase guessed, and Alex nodded in confirmation.

"Yes. As near as we could figure, we must have been unconscious most of the three hours that he'd given us to run."

House snorted.

"That's a very generous assumption, _Detective_. I suppose it didn't occur to you that he might have… I don't know… cheated?"

"Well, gee," Alex snarled, "how stupid of us not to think of that ourselves! I don't know why that would have occurred to us, _Doctor_. I mean, it's not like we were dodging arrows, and running for our lives… Oh, wait… That's _exactly_ what we were doing!"

House blinked, taken aback. He was used to Cuddy hitting back at him with sarcasm in response to _his_ sarcasm, and Wilson, too, on occasion. But normally the family and friends of his patients were too distressed to have the presence of mind to retaliate like that. This woman not only seemed capable of matching it with him, she seemed eager for the challenge. And _that_ unsettled him far more than anything else.

"Take it easy, Alex," Mike murmured. "Think about Bobby…"

"I _am_ thinking about Bobby!" Alex snapped, launching herself to her feet. "He says I need to tell him about what happened with Erik Mathers, and when I try to do that, he just ridicules me! I don't have to put up with this! And neither should Bobby!" She looked around at House, furious. "I want to organise for Bobby to be transferred back to New York, where he'll have a doctor who'll actually give a damn!"

"You do that now," House said bluntly, "and he'll die."

"Why?" Alex demanded. "Because you're the smartest there is?"

"Well, there is _that_," House conceded.

"Detective," Foreman jumped in, throwing House an exasperated look, "the bottom line is that we don't believe Bobby would survive a transfer. A trip in an ambulance would take too long, and the altitude pressure of flying would be too much for his body to take. Either way, the trip would probably kill him."

Alex turned away, shutting her eyes tightly, albeit uselessly, against the tears in her eyes.

"We are the best… and the _only _chance your partner has," House said quietly, with sincerity in his voice that even Alex couldn't ignore. She looked back at him, almost blinded by her tears.

"You had better be right about that, Dr House."

* * *

_tbc..._


	6. Emergency Treatment

_New York_

Deakins was just about ready to leave when his phone rang. He fleetingly considered ignoring it, but decided after a moment that perhaps that wasn't such a great idea. Biting back a groan, he answered the call with extreme reluctance.

"Deakins."

"_Captain, it's Logan._"

Immediately, all weariness was forgotten, and Deakins sat up straight.

"Mike, what's happening over there?"

"_It's not good, Captain. Goren_..._ He really is sick. I mean **really** sick. He, um_…_ He went into cardiac arrest not long after Alex and I got here._"

Deakins felt an icy wave of panic wash over him.

"Cardiac arrest? He's not…?"

"_They revived him_,_ but he's officially critical_,_ now._"

"Oh god… And I wouldn't believe him… Mike, how is Alex coping?"

Mike snorted loudly.

"_Coping? I really thought she was going to shoot his doctor for a minute_. _The guy's a real son of a bitch, Captain, but he seems to be the best shot Bobby has._"

Deakins sat silently, drawing in a long, shaky breath as the gravity of the situation finally started to sink in. Bobby was sick… Bobby was dying…

And all of a sudden, Deakins wanted nothing more than to be there in New Jersey, at his detective's side. It was a desire that he knew he could not fulfil.

"Mike, did you get Bobby to sign medical proxy over to you?"

"_Yeah, not fifteen minutes ago. He's not really aware now of what's going on, though. I'm not so sure he really knew what he was doing._"

"This doctor… House, was it? Do you really think he can help him?"

"_Look at it this way, sir. He's a stubborn bastard, just like Bobby. I think he's got the resolve to figure it out._"

"Figure it out…? What do you mean, figure it out?"

There was a long moment of silence.

"_Captain, they don't know what's wrong with him yet._"

Once more, Deakins felt that sickening, icy wave of panic sweep down his body.

"He's sick… You've told me he went into cardiac arrest… but they don't know what's wrong with him?"

"_Apparently all the tests they've done so far have come up negative. And Bobby's symptoms keep changing. Delirium without a fever… Delirium **with** a fever… Nausea… Vertigo… Fluctuating heart rate… numbness... I'm telling you, his own body can't seem to make up its mind what's wrong._"

"Okay. Listen, Mike, I want to be updated regularly. You call me again tomorrow morning, and again at noon, and then tomorrow evening. And if anything happens in between, you call me straight away. Understand?"

"_Yes, sir. Will do._"

"And Mike…"

"_Yes, sir?_"

"Take care of Alex."

"_I will, sir._"

Deakins hung up and slumped back in his chair, feeling sick to his stomach. Then, finally, he got slowly to his feet and headed out of his office in heavy silence.

* * *

"You get through to the captain?" Carolyn asked softly as Mike rejoined her just outside the door of Bobby's room. He nodded wearily.

"Yeah, I think I caught him just before he was leaving."

"How'd he react when you told him what's happening?"

"I think he nearly had a heart attack when I told him Bobby went into cardiac arrest. He'd come himself, if he could. I could hear it in his voice. He hates being stuck in New York, knowing now that Bobby is so sick."

Carolyn sighed softly.

"There's nothing he can do, except wait… like us."

Mike looked past her, into the room. Alex sat on the edge of the bed, clasping Bobby's hand and talking to him in a soft murmur. It didn't appear to Mike that Bobby was even awake at that point, but it wasn't deterring Alex. The doctor called Foreman was in there right then, running through a check of Bobby's vitals, and talking to Alex, but House was nowhere in sight.

"That doctor is some piece of work, isn't he?" Mike mused, walking away from the door and sitting down on a chair nearby. After a moment, Carolyn joined him.

"You're not wrong. You know, when Bobby gave his lecture this morning, House was there with four other doctors! He said he knew Bobby was going to collapse, and he wanted to have people there that he could gloat to when it happened."

"Son of a bitch," Mike muttered.

"On the other hand," Carolyn conceded, "if he hadn't been there, Bobby might have ended up in someone else's care… Maybe even at a different hospital… and something tells me that Dr House is the best chance he's got at the moment."

Mike glanced sideways at his partner. She looked exhausted.

"Carolyn, why don't you head back to the hotel? You look like crap."

"Gee, thanks, Mike."

"I'm not trying to insult you. I just mean, you're exhausted, and you look it."

She shook her head, though.

"No. I can't leave. Not until I know Bobby's going to be okay."

Mike sat silently for a long moment, processing her words in his mind.

"You're not responsible for what's happened, Carolyn."

Tears abruptly filled her eyes, and spilled down her cheeks.

"Then why do I feel like I am?"

Sighing, Mike slipped an arm around her shoulders and drew her to him in a warm embrace. She put up a brief resistance, but then caved and slumped against him, crying softly into his shoulder.

"He tried to tell me he was sick," she said, her voice muffled. "But I wouldn't listen to him. Why didn't I listen to him?"

"Because he was being an idiot, trying every trick in the book to get out of giving the lectures," Mike murmured. "I tell you, Carolyn, when he gets over this… whatever he's got… I'm going to kick his ass."

"For what?"

Mike looked pointedly past her and Carolyn followed his gaze, feeling her stomach roll at the sight of Alex clutching Bobby's limp hand and crying softly.

"For that."

* * *

House sat slumped in his chair in his office, twirling his cane as he worked silently through all the illnesses that his team had so far eliminated. He liked puzzles, but this particular one was fast becoming the proverbial matter of life or death. Though he'd done a good job of hiding it in front of those other detectives, and even his own underlings, House was deeply worried about Bobby's rapidly deteriorating condition.

He had been sure at first that all the detective had was a severe form of pneumonia, but none of the treatment had been effective. Instead, in the short time since Bobby had been admitted, his condition had deteriorated with frightening speed.

Now, the more he thought it over, the more he believed the detective's illness was linked in some way to his partner. Whether or not it was related to something that happened to them when they were being chased by the serial killer two years, House didn't know and wouldn't presume to guess. Not that he dealt exclusively with absolutes, mind you; not at all. But he hadn't heard that entire story yet. Detective Eames had ended up getting somewhat emotional and had stormed out of the room. The next he'd heard, she was back in ICU, with her partner.

In fact, according to a little birdie called Cameron, the good detective was sitting _on_ the bed beside her partner, and holding his hand in a very unpartnerly-like manner. House smirked a little to himself. He was positive she'd lied about sleeping with Bobby, and that little tidbit of information went a good way towards confirming his belief. And oh, he was going to enjoy taking her apart over _that_ not-so-little lie.

A shadow fell across him, distracting him from his train of thought, and he looked up to see Wilson standing there, watching him in bemusement.

"You must really be worried about this one," Wilson remarked, once he had House's attention.

"And what divine enlightenment led you to that conclusion?" House asked flatly, not bothering to even make an attempt at looking like he was working. Wilson couldn't quite conceal the smirk that struggled to the surface.

"You're missing General Hospital. It started twenty minutes ago."

House grunted.

"Re-run."

"Ah. So… Any breakthroughs yet?"

House looked slowly up at Wilson, and Wilson felt his stomach roll just slightly as he registered the grim look in his colleague's eyes.

"All the tests we've run so far have come back negative. His symptoms keep changing… None of it makes sense. It's almost like he's contracted an entirely new disease. I have no idea how to begin treating him. I'm running out of time, Wilson. He's deteriorating fast… Faster than I thought he would."

"How fast are you talking about?"

The look that Wilson got in answer to that question sent a chill down his spine.

"If we can't find out what's wrong with him within twenty-four hours, then it won't matter either way. Because by then, it'll be too late."

* * *

Ten minutes later saw House and Wilson walking towards ICU. After more pointless contemplating, House had finally decided it was time to talk to Bobby again, and hopefully get some sense out of him, rather than a delirious ramble.

"I heard his partner is pretty feisty," Wilson remarked. "Rumour has it, she just about had a piece of you earlier today. I don't know whether to feel sorry for the guy, or envy him."

House grunted, scowling.

"I'd waver on the side of sympathy. She threatened to shoot me."

It took more than a little effort for Wilson not to burst out laughing.

"Might I point out, she wouldn't be the first, and probably won't be the last?"

"That's not the point," House argued. "The mafia didn't count. They're _supposed_ to threaten to shoot people! They're the mafia! You expect it, it comes with the territory. She's a cop! She's supposed to be protecting people, not threatening them!"

They rounded the corner, came within sight of Bobby's room in ICU, and House froze. Wilson looked at him, baffled.

"House? What's wrong?"

Slowly, House took a shuffling back-step.

"Uh… I just remembered… I'm missing General Hospital."

Abruptly, he turned and headed back in the direction of his office. Wilson looked back at Bobby's room, momentarily confused, until he realised who was sitting with the detective. A grin lit up his face, and he hurried after his friend and colleague.

"It's her, isn't it? His partner? You're _afraid_ of her!"

House slowed to a halt, glaring at Wilson.

"Don't be an idiot. I'm not afraid of her."

"Yes, you are! You_ are_ scared of her!"

"No, I'm not!"

"Then why are you suddenly heading _away_ from your patient?"

"I don't like patients."

"No," Wilson argued. "You don't like _her_. Admit it! You _are_ afraid of her!"

House stood stiffly, glowering at Wilson, before finally turning and heading wordlessly back to Bobby's room.

* * *

Alex heard them enter, but didn't bother to look. Instead, she kept her focus completely on her partner, on his pale, sweat-lathered face that seemed to be getting hotter by the minute.

He'd not woken up again since he'd gone into cardiac arrest, and though the nurses and doctors had assured her that he was stable for the moment, it didn't calm her fears. Nothing would do that except seeing him open his eyes, smile and tell her he was okay. Nothing more, nothing less. And she knew damned well that it wasn't going to happen.

"You're looking nice and cosy up there, Detective."

Alex clenched her jaw just briefly. She'd promised herself that no matter how pissed off she got, she was not going to degrade herself and come down to the doctor's level; or rather, at least not when she was within such close proximity to Bobby. After all, as attractive an option as it might have seemed, shooting the man who was trying to save Bobby's life probably was not such a hot idea.

"Wow," she said finally. "You actually came in to see him yourself. What's the occasion?"

House glared at Wilson, daring him to make a comment, but the oncologist only smirked. He was enjoying this far too much to spoil it by speaking.

"Listen," House said as he turned back to Alex, "do you think that you might be able to lay off the attitude?"

She finally looked at him, her eyes narrowing to pinpoints.

"_You_ started it."

House snorted.

"Oh, well, that's real mature. Tell me, do you and your partner manage to solve _anything_? Between his stubbornness, and your attitude…"

Strangely, Alex didn't find herself feeling pissed off by his question, even though she noticed his colleague flinching and backing off slightly. Rather, a wry smile touched her lips.

"Dr House, Bobby and I have one of the highest solve rates in the entire NYPD. Very few of our cases end up going to trial, because more often than not, Bobby manages to break the suspect in the interrogation room. He's the best profiler the NYPD has. Maybe even one of the best in the country."

"Wow," House retorted. "All that, and with a crippled leg."

"His bad leg doesn't affect his mind," Alex snapped.

"Just how _did_ that happen, anyway? While you were up on that mountain, being chased by that lunatic?"

Alex fell quiet. She tried to think about that incident as little as possible, but the truth was it was never far from the surface of her mind. Indeed, she was served a bitter reminder of it every time she saw Bobby struggling in that heavy calliper, and every time he cringed from the pain he was constantly in.

"It was night time," she said softly. "Mathers caught up to us, and he shot me in the leg with an arrow. I couldn't walk, so Bobby picked me up and carried me. It was dark, he couldn't see where he was going too well, and we ended up on the edge of a precipice. Mathers shot Bobby with an arrow… He lost balance… and we fell. He broke both his legs when we hit the water. I broke my arm. It… was bad." She looked up at him, tears in her eyes. "I have the feeling that this won't impress you in any way, but Bobby managed to get up and walk on two broken legs, up a fairly steep hill, to get to where we would be seen by the search choppers."

"You're right," House said tonelessly. "It doesn't impress me. You're so busy blowing _his_ trumpet… Exactly what are _you_ in this spectacular partnership?"

"My… grounding force."

Alex looked down in surprise to find Bobby awake, and watching her through eyes that were bright with an intense fever. He looked barely capable of keeping it together, she thought miserably.

"Hey, you," she murmured. "How are you feeling?"

"Like… I'm on fire."

House limped over, and checked the gauge on one of the many machines that was monitoring Bobby's body temperature.

"A hundred and two point three," he announced. "High, but not unmanageable." He turned around again, looking piercingly from Bobby to Alex. "You lied to me."

Alex frowned, puzzled and angry.

"About what?"

"You and him. Sleeping together."

Even in his fever-riddled state, Bobby didn't miss the way that Alex went tense at the accusation.

"I already told you…"

"I know what you told me," House cut in on her. "And I know what I'm seeing right now. The two don't mesh, Detective."

Alex went red as she suddenly realised what House meant. She made no effort to slide off the bed, though. She wasn't leaving Bobby's side for any reason.

"I don't care what you think of this, Dr House. I am _not_ sleeping with Bobby."

"Well, maybe I'll just ask your partner."

"Be my guest," she snapped. "Bobby? Tell this clown we're not sleeping together."

Bobby looked vaguely puzzled.

"But… we are."

Alex gaped, while House was positively crowing.

"I knew it!"

Bobby shuddered a little. He was so hot, and it was so hard to focus… Struggling to maintain some clarity of thought, Bobby looked slowly over at House.

"We s… sleep together… sometimes… because of… nightmares… But we've never… had sex."

Taking in the annoyed frown on House's face, Alex couldn't help it. She began to giggle, the slightest touch of hysteria in her tone.

"Let me get this straight," House said, frowning deeply. "You do actually sleep together in the same bed…"

"Sporadically," Bobby inserted breathlessly.

"Sporadically," House conceded, with obvious reluctance. "But no vital naked parts have ever come into contact?"

"Very nice," Wilson muttered. Alex wiped at her eyes, still laughing softly.

"Not very eloquent, Doctor, but yes. That's what it is. So I guess you're right. I did lie. We _do_ sleep together. It just doesn't include sex, like Bobby said."

"But you _are_ sleeping together," House insisted, and Alex groaned softly.

"All right! Yes, we sleep together! Okay? Happy?"

"Very," House confirmed, almost gleeful. Alex glowered at him, embarrassed, and angry at feeling embarrassed.

"But it's still irrelevant. There's no way Bobby could have picked anything up from me, because we are _not _having sex."

"No, not true," House argued. "Doesn't matter whether sex is involved or not. If you two are spending significant amounts of time even just cuddling together, you could still have passed something on to him."

"Like what?" Alex asked incredulously. "In case it slipped your powers of deduction, I'm the healthy one here! If Bobby is sick because of something I passed on to him, wouldn't I be sick as well?"

"Not necessarily," Wilson answered as he approached the end of the bed. "Viruses and bacteria have a nasty habit of laying dormant in one host, and then hopping to the next and nearly killing them. It's possible that you have some bacteria that you're immune to, but your partner isn't."

Alex looked down at Bobby anxiously. She had to concede that there was a certain grim logic to that, but the idea that she might be in some way responsible for Bobby's illness was enough to make her sick to her stomach.

"No," Bobby said hoarsely, looking from Alex to House. "It's not her. Find another explanation."

House stared grimly at him, not back down.

"Sometimes the least popular explanation turns out to the only explanation. I have to explore all the options."

Bobby shuddered and shut his eyes. He understood the reasoning behind that, but that didn't mean he had to like it. Above all else, he didn't want Alex feeling she was in any way responsible for his getting sick.

"Find… another option," he whispered.

"But Bobby, what if he's right?" Alex asked softly. "What if it's something that I've passed on to you?"

"What a surprise," House snorted. "One of you is actually capable of being reasonable."

Alex glared at him, but bit back a sharp retort.

"So, what happens now, then?"

"We'll take blood and urine samples from you," House told her. "With any luck, we'll be able to identify something that could be making your partner sick."

Bobby tried to shake his head, wanting to protest, wanting to tell House to take his assessment and shove it up his ass, because there was no way in hell that Alex could have ever done anything to make him sick. But all of a sudden, nothing was working. He couldn't move his head, and when he opened his mouth to speak, no sounds emerged, except for a strange, gurgling moan.

"Bobby?" Alex asked anxiously, looking down at him with fresh fear. House reached out to Bobby, only to stop just short of touching him. He looked around, and even Wilson couldn't miss his sharp intake of breath.

"I need Chase and Foreman here, now," he announced, more to himself than to anyone else in the room, and quickly paged them.

"What is it?" Alex asked tensely. House didn't answer, but Wilson answered for him as he peered past House to the monitors.

"106? His temperature jumped nearly four degrees in less than twenty minutes!"

"We have to get his body temperature down, now, before his organs start to liquefy and his brain cooks," House muttered.

"What are you going to do?" Alex asked, tightening her grip on Bobby's hand. House regarded her grimly as he reached across and pressed the button that would summon the nurses.

"There's only one way to get his body temperature down quickly. We need to put him in an ice bath."

Alex choked back the urge to protest. As much as she knew that an ice bath would be agony for Bobby, she also understood the very real danger presented by his rising body temperature. She looked down at Bobby, and at his fever-stricken features. She could feel the heat radiating off him so fiercely, it was truly frightening.

"Bobby?" she asked, trying to draw his attention even as Chase and Foreman strode into the room, followed by a team of nurses. "Do you understand what's happening? They need to put you in an ice bath to cool you down."

Understanding slowly registered in his eyes, along with a healthy dose of panic. Like her, he understood just how much an ice bath would hurt.

"No…" he moaned, the word barely distinguishable. "No… Alex… Don't let them…"

Tears filled Alex's eyes, and she leaned down to kiss him gently on the forehead.

"Bobby, they have to. You're burning up! If they don't do this, you could die. Please, don't fight them."

Hands alighted on her shoulders, urging her off and away from the bed.

"You need to come away from him now," Wilson told her in as gentle a tone as he could. Alex shook her head desperately.

"No, I have to stay with him. He needs me to stay with him."

"Trust me," Wilson warned her grimly as he guided her out of the room, "you do not want to be there when they put him in that bath."

* * *

Mike and Carolyn had just returned from the cafeteria when Wilson ushered Alex out of the room.

"Hey, what's going on?" Mike asked, feeling a sharp twinge of fear deep in his gut. Alex shuddered and fell into his embrace, her body trembling as she fought to suppress fresh sobs.

"His body temperature just sky-rocketed," Wilson explained when Mike looked to him questioningly. "They're getting him ready to put him in an ice bath."

"An ice bath?" Carolyn echoed incredulously. "I didn't think anyone did that anymore."

"In extreme circumstances, it is still used," Wilson answered. "This _is_ an extreme circumstance. His temperature jumped nearly four degrees in less than twenty minutes, and it's still rising. We have to get his temperature down…"

"Or?" Mike asked tensely. Wilson glanced around as Bobby was brought out of the ICU room on a gurney, and rushed away down the long corridor. There was no point dancing around the truth, like he might have done with the family and friends of his own patients. These people were cops. They expected to be told the truth, however grim it was.

"Or he'll die."

* * *

_tbc..._


	7. From Bad To Worse

At some point between the ICU and the room where orderlies were currently filling a bathtub with cold water and ice, Bobby lost consciousness. House, who had been limping alongside of the gurney, spotted it first, and bellowed an order to the orderlies guiding the gurney.

"What are you waiting for? Move it! He needs to be in that tub yesterday!"

The orderlies broke into a fast jog, pushing the gurney along as fast as they dared. They wheeled it into the room, and immediately began stripping Bobby down to his shorts.

"Get him in there!" House snapped. "_Now_!"

Between Chase, Foreman and the two orderlies, they lifted Bobby off the gurney, sheet and all, and lowered him into the tub.

The reaction was immediate. The sudden change from burning to freezing threw Bobby almost violently back into awareness, and a strangled scream tore from his lips as the frigid cold of the ice took effect against his overheated flesh. He tried to lift himself out of the tub, but there were several pairs of hands there ready to hold him down and, in his weakened state, he couldn't hope to fight them.

"Careful of that leg of his," House warned. "When he starts thrashing, he could do himself damage."

True to House's prediction, Bobby went into a near flurry of involuntary convulsions, and all the while anguished screams split the air. It took Chase, Foreman, the orderlies and the nurses to hold Bobby down and keep him submerged up to his neck in the ice and water, and to keep him from hurting himself by thrashing around.

"Maybe we should bring his partner in," Cameron suggested when Bobby showed no sign of calming down. House shot her a look that was nearly as frigid as the ice that Bobby had been immersed in.

"Don't be an idiot. What good could she possibly do? We don't need some hysterical female in here. One is more than enough."

"I was just thinking that maybe…"

"No, you aren't thinking. This is _not_ the place for non-medical staff. Go out there and talk to them if you really want to, but do _not_ let them in here."

* * *

Alex, Mike and Carolyn had followed as far as they could, and now waited outside the room, listening in stricken silence to the anguished screams of their friend and colleague. Mike had an arm around each of the women as they cried, and all the while struggling not to give in and cry himself. Having to listen to Bobby's tortured screams was just about more than any of them could cope with.

The door opened, and Dr Cameron slipped out, quickly closing it behind her before they could get a glimpse of what was going on inside. She favoured them with as reassuring a look as she could manage.

"It's working," she told them. "His temperature is going down. He'll be okay."

"For now, you mean," Mike said hoarsely. "Did… Did this really have to happen? Like this, I mean… Wasn't there another way to help him?"

"We had to act fast," Cameron explained. "His temperature was dangerously high, and we had to reverse that. I know how awful it sounds, but it _is_ helping him."

Mike shook his head and was about to speak again when, with equally terrifying abruptness, the screams suddenly stopped. Alex looked up slowly, almost as disturbed by the sudden silence as she had been by her partner's tormented cries.

"What… just happened?"

Cameron tried to smile reassuringly, but couldn't quite pull it off. The truth was, she wasn't entirely sure herself.

"I'm going in there," Alex said abruptly, and started towards the door. Cameron almost tripped in her effort to stop her.

"No, I'm sorry, but you really do need to stay out here. Please, for your sake _and_ for Bobby's…"

"One minute he was screaming the place down," Mike said in a dangerously quiet voice, "and now… nothing. What the hell is going on?"

Cameron shook her head.

"Please…you need to be patient…"

"Patient my ass!" Mike exploded. "Let us in there, now!"

He tried to step around her, but Cameron planted herself squarely in front of him, as though daring him to go through her. In her haste to stop Mike, though, she forgot about Alex and, in a move that was well-rehearsed on her part, Alex slipped around the doctor and into the room.

* * *

The sight that met Alex's eyes as she walked into the room was, perhaps, one of the most frightening that she'd ever been confronted with in her life. The sight of her partner, almost completely immersed in ice and water and rigid from the shock, was just about enough to give her a heart attack. She started towards him, her heart pounding painfully, only to be stopped in her tracks by a pair of hands alighting firmly on her shoulders. She looked up in a daze to find herself held in place by Dr House.

"Get your hands off me," she said hoarsely.

"No," House answered, his voice taking on a tone of authority that surpassed her own. "You need to leave, _now_."

"He needs me," Alex whispered, tears flooding her eyes. "You don't understand. He needs me…"

"Look at me," House ordered her and she looked up, reluctantly tearing her gaze from Bobby. "He is going to be okay. His temperature is going down. If you really want to help, you'll walk out that door and leave us to do our job."

"C'mon, Detective," Foreman murmured as he walked over and gently took her arm to guide her out. "Come and wait outside. You can be with him again as soon as we're done. It won't be long."

Shaken, Alex allowed herself to be guided out of the room, the image of her stricken partner burned into her mind.

She came back out to find Mike on his cell phone, speaking in a low, though audibly distressed voice.

"Who…?" Alex asked of Carolyn.

"Captain Deakins," Carolyn answered softly. Alex nodded miserably as she sank into the seat next to her friend, and buried her face in her hands.

* * *

Jimmy Deakins had just sat down to dinner with his wife and two daughters when his cell phone rang. Immediately, Angie shot him a glaring look, while the girls tried not to laugh. Normally they were the ones in trouble for having the cell phones at the dinner table, and not their father.

"Jimmy," Angie growled as he pulled it out of his pocket, "you know my policy about cell phones at the table. Whoever it is, they can wait."

Jimmy glanced at the caller ID, and felt his stomach roll. It was Logan.

"I'm sorry, Angie," he apologised quietly. "I have to take this."

Angie glowered angrily, but didn't protest further as he answered the call.

"Mike? What's happening?"

Mike's voice came through clearly, clearly enough for Angie and the girls to hear what was being said.

"_I'm sorry to call you now, Captain, but you wanted to know if anything happened. Something has. Bobby just took a turn for the worst. His temperature sky-rocketed_…"

"What do you mean, sky-rocketed?"

"_I mean, it went from a hundred and two to a hundred and six within twenty minutes. Captain_…_ They had to put him in an ice bath to stop his brain from cooking_."

"An ice bath?" Deakins echoed in shock, mentally cringing at the pain he knew it had to have caused Bobby. "They still do that?"

"_Yeah, they still do that, and let me tell you, it must've hurt like hell. He just about screamed the roof down._"

Deakins felt his stomach roll unpleasantly. All of a sudden, he had no appetite.

"Is he all right?"

"_For the moment, yeah. I think so, anyway. They still have him in there. They won't let us in. Alex tried, and just got booted out again. It really isn't good, Captain. Alex is just about on the verge of a breakdown_…_ It just isn't good._"

Deakins shut his eyes. That settled it. He couldn't just sit back and stay a distant observer. Regardless of what the brass might say, he had to be there, in New Jersey.

"Mike, I'm coming out there. I'll be on the first flight to New Jersey that I can get."

He ended the call before Mike had a chance to argue, and finally looked up to find his wife and daughters staring at him in confused horror.

"Jimmy, what on earth is going on?" Angie asked, all anger gone from her voice.

"Bobby Goren is sick," Deakins explained. "I mean, _really_ sick. He collapsed this morning in the middle of giving a lecture at Princeton in New Jersey, and was admitted to the teaching hospital there. I sent Mike Logan and Alex Eames, and they got there late this afternoon… apparently just in time to witness Bobby going into cardiac arrest. Now, apparently, Bobby's temperature shot up so much that he had to be put into an ice bath."

"Oh, god," nineteen year old Chloe Deakins whispered in horror. Twenty-six year old Rebekah stared at her father in dismay. As a resident at Mt Sinai, she comprehended the effects of such a treatment even more than her younger sister.

"But… his bad leg… It'd be agony for him!"

Deakins nodded in grim agreement. The same had occurred to him, as well.

"You're really going to go to New Jersey?" Angie asked. Deakins looked over at her apologetically.

"Yes. I have to. I'm sorry, Angie, but you know I have power of attorney for Bobby, and I'm also his medical proxy. If it really is as bad as Logan said, then they're going to need me there to make decisions for him. I don't like it, but it's the way it has to be."

He strategically avoided mentioning that he'd already had Bobby sign medical proxy over to Mike. Angie rose up and walked around to him.

"It's all right, Jimmy. I do understand. And… I suppose that this time, at least, I can be sure you won't get shot at with bullets or arrows."

Deakins went red at the subtle reminder. As understanding as Angie was with his protectiveness of his detectives – and of Bobby, in particular – the last time especially had proved a strain on their marriage. It had not been all that long since things had settled down between them once more. Slipping her arms around his shoulders, Angie went on quietly.

"Just tell me one thing, and be honest. How serious is it? Really…?"

Deakins tilted his head back to look his wife as directly in the eye as he was able.

"He could be dying, Angie. And according to Logan, they don't even know what's wrong with him yet."

She leaned down to kiss him gently on the forehead.

"Then book the flight. But make it two seats, not one. I'm coming with you."

* * *

Mike ended the call, and looked over at Alex and Carolyn who, in turn, were watching him with matching red-rimmed eyes.

"Captain's coming on the first flight he can get," Mike told them softly. "I think he nearly had a stroke when I told him they'd had to put Bobby in an ice bath."

Alex gave a strangled sob.

"You know it's bad when it gets Deakins out of New York."

Mike was at a loss to respond to that. Before he had a chance to try, though, the door finally opened, and House emerged slowly.

"Well?" Carolyn asked hoarsely. House stood wordlessly for a long moment, looking at the three of them before answering grimly.

"The good news is that the ice bath brought his temperature down. The bad news is that it sent his body into shock."

"Shock?" Mike echoed. "Well… what does that mean?"

"His organs started to shut down," House answered. "Specifically, his lungs shut down. We had to intubate him and connect him to a ventilator while he was still in the bath, to get him breathing again."

"Oh god," Alex whispered, suddenly going weak at the knees. "This is too much…"

"He's stable for the moment," House told them. "But it's more important now than ever that I hear the rest of your story, Detective Eames. I'm more positive now than ever that the cause of this lies with something that happened on that mountain. You need to tell me _everything_."

"I tried," Alex said tensely, still clinging to Mike to for support. "You just ridiculed me."

House drew in a long, slow breath. If he was going to get the information he needed, it would mean swallowing his pride and, in all honesty, he just wasn't sure if he could do that.

"I know I did," he answered softly. If Foreman, Chase or Cameron were to walk out of the room at that point, he would probably kill them himself, just to save himself the humiliation. "I'm sorry. I promise you it won't happen again."

Alex stood stiffly, in two minds over whether to accept the apology, when another voice spoke, tinged heavily with amusement.

"I'd accept it, if I were you. I think that's the first genuine apology he's given in… Actually, I think that's the first genuine apology he's ever given, period."

House felt his mood plummet even further. Cuddy…

"All right," Alex conceded finally. "Accepted. You want to know everything? I'll tell you everything."

House nodded, trying to ignore his boss's amused smirk.

"Good. I just hope it's not too late.

* * *

_tbc..._


	8. Reliving the Past

_Early the following morning_

Deakins arrived at the hospital with his wife at his side. To his surprise, Angie had refused to be left behind at the hotel. When he'd queried it, she had simply smiled, kissed him and told him to call a taxi to take them to the hospital. He hadn't asked any more questions.

They were quickly directed to ICU, where they found Carolyn sitting in miserable silence outside an ICU rooms that had the shades pulled.

"Carolyn?" Deakins asked. She looked up in a daze, and then almost jumped up as his presence finally registered in her exhausted mind.

"Captain, I didn't think you'd be here until later this morning."

"Sit," he urged her gently, and she did so without protest. "We decided to just drive here, instead of waiting for a flight. We would have been here sooner, except that Angie insisted I get a few hours sleep before we left. Now, tell me what's happening?"

Carolyn motioned to the room with the shades pulled.

"That's Bobby's room. The nurses are doing some stuff for him right now… I had to leave while they were doing it. Privacy, you know."

"Is he all right? After that phone call from Logan last night…"

"Yes, and no. He's stable… but his lungs shut down, Captain. It happened while they had him in the ice bath. They had to put him on a ventilator… and he's been intubated… so he can't talk, even if he wakes up."

"Do they know yet what's making him sick?" Angie asked, and Carolyn shook her head.

"No. Or, at least, if they do they haven't said anything to us."

"Speaking of which," Deakins murmured, "where is Alex and Mike?"

"With Dr House," Carolyn answered softly. "Telling him about what happened between her, Bobby and Erik Mathers."

Deakins couldn't contain the frown that spread over his face at that piece of news.

"Why are they still insisting on knowing about that?"

"It's Bobby's doctor. He seems to think that something that happened on the mountain might be behind Bobby's illness."

"His doctor…" Deakins mused. "The same man that I spoke to on the phone yesterday?"

It took every ounce of self-control that Carolyn had not to cringe.

"That would be the one."

Before Deakins had a chance to say anything, the door of Bobby's room opened, and Dr Cameron emerged.

"You can go back in now," she told Carolyn, giving a slightly quizzical look to Deakins and his wife at the same time.

"This is Captain Deakins and his wife," Carolyn explained tiredly. "Captain, this is Dr Cameron. She's one of the doctors who have been looking after Bobby."

Deakins shook Cameron's hand in a cursory gesture.

"Dr Cameron, do you have any idea yet what's wrong with him?"

Cameron bit back a sigh. This was one of the things she hated about working for House. The cases they got were so damned obscure, and it made it horribly difficult to deal with family and friends of patients who were desperate to know what was afflicting their loved ones.

"We're working on finding that out," she assured him. "I promise you that. Excuse me…"

She fled, not caring to be interrogated by a police captain. Deakins watched her go, and Angie slipped her arm around his waist comfortingly.

"I think you scared her."

He grimaced and, without answering, led the way into the room.

* * *

Bobby was awake when they walked in, and though he couldn't speak for the tubing down his throat, the look on his face at the sight of Deakins was only too obvious. It was a mixture of relief and guilt. Deakins walked over to the bedside, and laid a hand gently on Bobby's shoulder.

"Relax, Bobby. I'm not angry with you. Not now. But you need to recover from this… whatever it is. You've got us all scared half to death."

The guilt faded minutely, to be over-written by a new emotion. Fear… Bobby was starkly afraid, and he had no way to hide that fear.

"It's going to be all right," Deakins told him softly. "The doctors here will work it out. You'll pull through. Trust them… and trust us."

Angie came forward, then, smiling at the puzzlement in Bobby's eyes when he saw her.

"I decided I wasn't letting Jimmy run off and leave me behind this time," she told him gently, taking the liberty of stroking his forehead in a soothing gesture. "And besides, no one should have to be sick in the hospital and not have family to support them."

Bobby visibly relaxed at her kind words, but more-so at the realisation that Deakins wasn't angry with him after all. Exhausted, frightened and in more pain than he could reasonably stand, Bobby finally gave in to the darkness that was waiting to embrace him.

"He's out," Deakins murmured, finally moving back from the bed. Carolyn stood at the end of the bed, watching tearfully.

"He's unconscious most of the time now. Dr House said his body was systematically shutting down. That… That unless they can figure it out soon…"

She trailed off, leaving the obvious unspoken. Deakins rubbed one hand over his face, feeling suddenly nauseous.

"All right. I need to see this Dr House. Where is he, Carolyn?"

Carolyn hesitated, looking anxiously at Bobby. Alex had gone with House solely on the condition that she stay with Bobby, and not leave him alone. She felt a hand clasp hers, and looked up dazedly to see Angie Deakins standing there, smiling gently at her.

"It's all right, Carolyn. I'll stay with him. I promise."

Carolyn conceded reluctantly with a nod.

"Okay. Th… Thankyou."

* * *

Silence reigned in the office that House and his team used to brainstorm over their diagnoses. Alex had just finished describing how she'd extracted the arrow from Bobby's body, and cauterised the entry and exit wounds to stop him from bleeding out. Everyone who had been listening – even House – was horrified by what they were hearing.

"And you just went back to sleep after that?" Foreman asked incredulously. "Weren't you afraid that Mathers might catch up to you while you were sleeping?"

Alex looked up at him through red-rimmed eyes.

"At that point, I didn't give a fuck whether he turned up or not. I'd just had to push an arrow through my partner's stomach, and cauterise his wounds. Even if he had turned up then, what could I have done except lie there and let him kill us both?"

"Sorry," Foreman murmured. "Go on, please."

Alex drew in a long, calming breath.

"When I woke up again, Bobby was already awake. He… wasn't good, but he was at least alive. He'd made a brace for his broken leg out of wood…"

"I thought you said both of his legs were broken?" House interrupted but, to his credit, there was no scepticism or sarcasm in his tone this time. Alex nodded.

"They were, but one leg was broken worse than the other, and he never realised the other was broken at all because of it. The pain of one overshadowed the rest, I suppose."

"Okay, what next?" he asked, the barest hint of impatience starting to creep into his voice. He was starting to feel more and more that this was a waste of time, that there was nothing to be gained from listening to her telling of the story. Alex fired him a dark look, but otherwise ignored his tone. Before she had a chance to go on, though, the door opened and Carolyn strode in, with Deakins right behind her.

"Captain," Alex said, feeling a wave of relief hit her at the sight of him.

"Oh, great," House muttered, getting up and retreating the far side of the room for more coffee. Deakins' piercing gaze went straight to the doctor.

"You _must_ be House."

"My reputation precedes me," House retorted. "Goodie. And you must be the overprotective captain who couldn't stay in New York, where he belongs."

Chase, Foreman and Cameron all winced, as did Alex, Mike and Carolyn, but House seemed oblivious – both to their reactions and to Deakins'.

"What is wrong with my detective?" Deakins demanded to know in a forcibly calm voice.

"That's what we're trying to figure out," Foreman interrupted, hoping to defuse the situation. Deakins turned, glowering at the younger man.

"How? By opening old wounds?"

"Captain, it's okay," Alex said quietly. "Bobby and I agreed to tell them. They think that maybe something that happened when we were on the run from Erik Mathers might be responsible for Bobby being sick now." She trailed off, her gaze going to Carolyn. "Who's with Bobby?"

"Angie is," Deakins reassured her. "We didn't leave him alone."

"Can we get on with this?" House asked sharply. "Time's wasting, people."

Alex glared at him, but went on with her story.

"I don't remember a lot more of what happened. I know we were rescued that afternoon… And we climbed that rise to get to where we'd have the best chance of being seen by rescue choppers… Mathers caught up to us when we got to the top of the rise. He… He shot me… through the stomach… The last thing I remember is sitting on the grass with Bobby… After that, I don't remember anything until I woke up in the hospital."

She stopped talking, the slightest of tremors passing through her shoulders as she clenched her hands together tightly in her lap.

"Did Bobby contract any infections from his injuries?" Cameron asked, frowning. "Anything that might have been a bit unusual, but didn't seem to have a lasting effect on him?"

"Nothing like that," Deakins answered soberly. "When we found him… When the medics got to him… he was suffering severe hypothermia, blood loss, trauma… everything you'd expect from someone who'd been shot multiple times with arrows, had multiple broken bones and was suffering from extreme exposure. He was pretty damned lucky that he didn't end up with any infections."

"Then there has to be something else," House insisted. He looked back to Alex. "Something that you're not telling us."

She bristled visibly.

"I don't remember everything that happened…"

"Oh, bull," House retorted. "All that repressed memory stuff is crap! You can remember if you really want to…"

"Well, I don't want to remember!" Alex exploded. "Don't you get that? It was the worst time of my life, and I don't want to remember any of it!"

"Look, it's obvious you're on the wrong track here," Mike insisted, trying desperately to inject a note of calm into the proceedings. "There's got to be some other reason for why he's sick!"

Alex stood up abruptly.

"I'm going back to Bobby."

She strode out of the room before anyone had a chance to stop her. Deakins watched her go, and then looked back at House.

"What Bobby and Alex went through on that mountain was nothing short of hell. If Alex doesn't want to remember, then I won't let anyone force her into it."

House stared grimly at Deakins.

"Even at the expense of Bobby's life?"

Deakins stood stiffly for a long moment before wheeling around and heading out after Alex. After a moment, Mike and Carolyn followed.

"Maybe we're wrong," Chase said quietly. "Maybe his illness has nothing to do with what happened to them."

"It has everything to do with it," House snapped. "I'm sure of it. But unless we can get the whole truth out of them…"

"In the meantime," Cameron interjected, "I've been thinking…"

"Oh boy," House mumbled. Cameron ignored him.

"What about TB?"

"Chest x-rays came up negative," Foreman pointed out.

"We took those x-rays when he came in yesterday morning," Cameron argued. "It's possible that it might have developed since then. It wouldn't be the first time that evidence has delayed in appearing."

"Do another set of scans," House ordered. "Check for TB, and pneumonia. In the meantime, switch his meds to Isoniazid and Rifampin, and up his dosage of penicillin to 150mls."

"I thought we'd established that it wasn't pneumonia," Chase said, puzzled.

"Call me hopeful," House retorted as he passed them on the way to the door.

"You? Hopeful?" Foreman snorted. "That'd be a first."

House didn't crack a smile. They were beyond joking now, and the situation was fast approaching a point where they either took a chance with the detective's treatment, or sat back on their collective asses and let him die.

"I just don't like to be wrong."

* * *

_tbc..._


	9. Figuring It Out

Angie Deakins looked up as the door slid open and Alex walked in, pale-faced and red-eyed.

"Alex...?"

Alex came to a halt at the end of the bed, staring down at her partner's pallid features.

"He's going to die," she whispered in distress. "Bobby's dying, and they can't stop it from happening."

A moment later, tears spilled down her cheeks, and she broke down in heavy sobs.

"Oh, honey," Angie murmured, and hurried around to wrap her arms around Alex in a supportive hug. "Don't give up yet. Bobby's strong, he's a fighter. He won't give up, and you can't either. Do you hear me?"

"They don't know what's wrong with him, though!" Alex choked out. "How can they help him when they don't even know what's wrong?"

"I don't know," Angie murmured. "I wish I did, but I don't."

The door slid open again, and Angie looked up as her husband walked back in, followed closely by Mike and Carolyn.

"Jimmy?" Angie asked softly.

"They don't know," Deakins said in a strained voice. "They have no idea what's wrong with him. They don't even know where to start."

"Maybe it's time we did a little detective work of our own," Mike said, drawing the others' attention.

"What are you talking about, Mike?" Carolyn asked. "We're not doctors."

"I know that, but let's look at what we know. Carolyn? You were with him when he first started getting sick. Bobby's symptoms... What were they? "

"Uh... Well, he had this horrible cough, and a bad fever... He was coughing up blood... and he had pretty bad vertigo."

"And after he collapsed, what symptoms did he display?" Mike pressed.

"The fever started coming and going... And he had fits of delirium."

Alex's head came up slowly.

"Delirium? Bobby was delirius?"

"Apparently he started hallucinating in the ambulance on the way here, after he collapsed," Carolyn explained.

"What are you thinking of, Alex?" Deakins asked, but she shook her head.

"Something... Something that happened on that mountain, but I can't quite remember. Damn it, why can't I remember?"

"Because you've spent the last two years doing your best to forget," Deakins told her gently. "And I can understand why you want to forget, but now it seems that you have to start remembering."

Mike walked around and took Alex by the shoulders, guiding her over to the window and sitting her down.

"You need to think this through carefully, Alex. Bobby told Carolyn that he remembered feeling like this once before, but he couldn't remember when. Is it possible that he was sick like this while you two were on Gore Mountain together?"

"He wasn't sick like this," Alex said hoarsely. "I'd remember that."

"Then maybe it was on a lesser scale," Deakins suggested. "Maybe he was displaying some of the symptoms that he has now? The delirium seemed to ring a bell with you."

Alex drew in a long, steadying breath as she reluctantly allowed her mind to wander back to those terrifying two days that she and Bobby had been on the run from Mathers. Yes, the delirium _did_ ring a chord with her, but much from those two days was now just a blur, remembered clearly only in her nightmares, and she was not eager to recall any of it.

She glanced around, and her gaze went once more to her partner. Her eyes swept over him, taking in his too-pale features, and his too-still body. It was unnatural for Bobby to be so still, unnatural and frightening, and she knew that unless a solution was found soon, it was entirely possible that he would not wake up again.

They'd revived him once. She knew in her heart that if he went into cardiac arrest again, then there would be no reviving him a second time.

A sharp hiss of breath drew her attention away from her partner, back to her captain, and she looked to see him sitting there with a shocked expression.

"Jimmy?" Angie asked softly. "What is it?"

He didn't answer her immediately, caught up in his own memories. Specifically, memories of an evening in a hotel room in a little place called Denton... Talking with a man called Frost, and telling him the grim story of Bobby and Alex's ordeal on Gore Mountain.

He remembered watching as Bobby unbuttoned his shirt and lowered the collar to reveal puncture scars on his right shoulder blade, scars that had been made by a cruel device...

"The spikes," Deakins whispered, raising his eyes to meet Alex's. For a brief moment, she looked puzzled. Then, suddenly, her eyes widened with shocked realisation.

"Oh god... the spikes... The poison..."

"What spikes?" Mike asked, frowning. Alex spoke quickly and urgently as the memories flooded back.

"When Mathers first caught up to us, he fired a home-made weapon at us. It was a little metal ball covered in spikes. Bobby put himself between it and me, and it hit him in the shoulder. I pulled it out, but two of the spikes broke off, and stayed inside his body. At first it didn't seem to affect him, and it wasn't long before we had a lot worse injuries to worry about. But the next day, we were sitting by a stream, trying to get some of our energy back so we could climb up that hill, and Bobby started hallucinating. He managed to fight it off, but we knew there had to be something in those spikes that was making him sick. The delirium wore off, but his temperature shot up… and he started getting dizzy, and nauseous…"

"That's it," Mike said tensely. "That _has_ to be it. It matches the symptoms he has now..."

"But wouldn't those spikes have been removed?" Carolyn wondered, baffled. "And wouldn't his body have been flushed out properly of the poison?"

"We thought it was," Deakins said as he recalled what Bobby's doctor had told him about the poison found in Bobby's bloodstream. "There can only be one explanation for why it's affecting him now."

"There's still a piece of one of the spikes in his body," Alex guessed, and Deakins nodded.

"Right, and it's still tipped with enough of Mathers' poison to be making Bobby sick."

"But that's crazy!" Carolyn protested. "If that's what it is, it would have made him sick long before now!"

"It's the only explanation," Deakins growled, suddenly on fire with fresh determination. "We have to tell those doctors. Mike, get on the phone and call St Clare's Hospital, in Manhattan. Ask to speak to Dr Jack Evans. Tell him what the situation is, and that we need him to send a record of Bobby's blood work from two years ago, after the Erik Mathers incident, to Dr House here at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Hurry, go!"

Mike fled the room to do as Deakins had told him. Deakins looked back at Alex, and inclined his head towards the door.

"Alex, I need you to come with me. You have to tell them about this. It can't just come from me."

Alex looked back at Bobby, torn, and Angie hugged her again reassuringly.

"Carolyn and I will stay right here. We won't leave him alone, I promise."

Carolyn nodded in agreement.

"Go ahead, Alex. We'll look after him."

Still reluctant, but knowing they were right, Alex hurried out of the room, after her captain.

* * *

"What now?" House snapped when Deakins strode into his office, with Alex in tow. Deakins frowned, but didn't waste his breath fighting over the doctor's attitude.

"We think we know what's wrong with Bobby."

House snorted derisively.

"_Everybody's_ a doctor."

"He was poisoned," Alex burst out, and House raised an eyebrow at her.

"Confessing, Detective?"

"I didn't poison him, you asshole," Alex snarled. "When we were on that mountain, two years ago, Bobby was hit in the shoulder by a metal spiked ball. Two of the spikes broke off when I pulled it out of his shoulder. They were tipped with a poison that was mixed by the man who took us. It made him feverish, dizzy, and caused him to start hallucinating..."

House was on his feet almost before Alex had finished speaking, barking an order at Cameron.

"Contact the hospital in New York where Bobby was treated. I want full details of all his bloodwork..."

"Don't bother," Deakins cut him off. "I've already had Detective Logan make the call."

House froze, then threw an irritated look at the captain.

"Captain Deakins, I appreciate that you're worried about your detective. I really do. But would you please leave the doctoring to us doctors? And I promise that the next time I'm in New York, I won't come and interfere with _your_ job."

Deakins couldn't suppress the wry smile that fought its way onto his lips.

"Point taken, Dr House. My apologies."

House nodded, satisfied that his point had finally been made.

"Thankyou. Now, I suggest you go back and sit with Bobby, and let us do our job."

Conceding, Deakins took Alex gently by the shoulders and guided her out of the office. Once they were gone, House turned back to Cameron.

"Get on the phone. Contact the hospital... St Clare's, I think it was. Order the records of bloodwork."

Cameron regarded him bemusedly.

"But you heard him. That Detective Logan already..."

"He's a cop, not a doctor," House snapped. "And we don't have the time to wait for a subpeona. Make the call, Cameron. Where are Chase and Foreman?"

"Organising to have new scans done, like you told them," Cameron replied even as she turned away and picked up the phone. Making a snap decision, House snatched up his cane and walked out of the office as fast as his crippled leg would allow him to.

* * *

"Definitely the blonde," Foreman said with a snort of laughter. "There's one lady I do _not_ want to meet in a dark alley."

Chase smirked.

"I think it'd be eye-opening to see the two of them in action. They'd be pretty intimidating in an interrogation room."

"Well, she scares me," Foreman retorted.

"She scares House," Chase pointed out. "She's the first person I've ever seen him retreat from."

"Well, she did threaten to shoot him," Foreman mused.

"Not the first time that's happened," Chase said, and Foreman had to concede.

"Right, the mafia... But even they didn't scare House like this woman does. Did you see him talking to her after we put Bobby in the ice bath?"

"Cameron told me about it," Chase said. "She said he actually apologised to her! Can you believe that? The great, omnipotent House, actually apologising to someone? And meaning it!"

The two of them laughed, blissfully unaware that the object of their mirth had materialised right behind them.

"If you two are done," he snapped, and both men froze at the sound of his voice. "We have a possible lead. The _blonde_ has finally remembered something useful."

"So, no scans?" Foreman queried.

"Au contraire, Dr Foreman. Run the scans, and take x-rays."

"Of his chest...?" Chase wondered.

"Of his entire body," House ordered them. "We're looking for foreign bodies. But I still want to check for pneumonia, as well."

"But if there's another explanation..." Chase argued. House glared at him even as he began to turn to leave.

"I told you, I don't like to be wrong."

* * *

"He still thinks Bobby has pneumonia?" Mike asked incredulously half an hour later, when Bobby had been taken for the scans and x-rays. Deakins nodded.

"Apparently."

"But we figured it out," Carolyn said. "At least, we hope we did."

"You know," Angie pointed out, "it's enirely possible that he does have pneumonia. If there is part of one of those awful spikes still in his body, and it's been slowly leaking that poison into his body all this time, then it would have had to have taken something serious to trigger these sorts of effects."

Deakins grinned at his wife.

"You've been reading Rebekah's medical books."

She smiled unapologetically.

"It never hurts to be informed."

"So, it's possible that this poison has been present in his body all along," Mike said, "but it wasn't until he got sick with something else that it really started to do serious damage?"

"It makes sense," Alex said from where she sat by the window. "Mathers' poison was never intended for killing. It was just meant to slow his victims down... disorient them, so he could catch them. It was his safeguard in case he took someone who actually might have escaped."

"He started using it with his New York victims," Deakins confirmed. "The poison wasn't present in the blood of any of the Miami victims. He didn't start using it until after that man escaped him in Florida."

"The only problem is," Alex pointed out, "they never were able to identify the chemical makeup of the poison."

"I don't know that much effort went into trying to find out," Deakins mused. "Mathers was dead... Bobby was recovering... It didn't seem to have a prolonged effect on him. I think that in the end, it just got put on ice."

Alex looked away, back out the window.

"Let's hope that Dr House is as smart as he claims to be, and that _he_ can figure out what it is, before it's too late."

* * *

_tbc..._


	10. An Unusual Solution

_A/N: See? I didn't forget about this one. The muse had a sudden moment of inspiration. At 10.20pm last night. I could kill the fuzzball._

_

* * *

_

Some time later

"There's nothing," Cameron said, frustrated and tired from poring over multiple scans. These are all clear."

"Not all of them," Chase countered as he examined one of three chest x-rays that had been taken. He looked up at House grimly. "You were right. He does have pneumonia. It's visible on the x-rays now."

"Keep looking," House said flatly, not bothering to look up. Foreman glanced at Chase and Cameron in frustration before speaking tersely.

"Why? If he has pneumonia after all, we should be upping his dosage of penicillin to combat it."

"He has pneumonia," House agreed, looking up at Foreman with a withering stare. "But it's not all that's wrong with him. The pneumonia alone wouldn't have made him this sick."

"How can you be sure of that?" Foreman argued. "From what we've found out, the guy is an absolute workaholic. That was proven when he went ahead with that lecture, despite being sick."

"There's something else," House insisted. "There has to be."

"Why?" Foreman pressed. "Because you'd feel like an idiot for taking on a patient with a simple case of pneumonia? Whatever the poison was that was in his body, there is nothing there now..."

"Found it," Chase spoke up suddenly, his voice taking on an urgent tone. Throwing Foreman a triumphant smirk, House got up and walked over to look at the scan that Chase was examining.

"There," Chase said, pointing to a small, foreign object that was perhaps just fractionally bigger than a pin, and presently appeared to be trapped in one of the pulmonary blood vessels linking Bobby's left lung to his heart.

"Assuming that's it," Cameron said, peering at it with a frown, "it looks like it's trapped in the vessel."

"But it might not be for long," Chase said. "And if that reaches his heart..."

"He'll be dead," House said flatly. "We have to get it out."

"Any suggestions how we do that?" Foreman asked, unable to keep the scepticism from his voice. "Without risking pushing it further along the vessel, towards the heart?"

House stared at the scan for several seconds before speaking quietly.

"We go into the vessel from the opposite end to the lung. We go in _through_ the heart, and push it back into his lung. From there, we can open up the lung, and get it out."

His words were met with stunned silence. When someone finally spoke, it was Cameron.

"But... to do that, you'd have to..."

"Stop his heart," House agreed.

"The risks are too high," Foreman said sharply. "If it takes too long... or if we can't find the right vessel, he could end up a vegetable, or dead..."

"If we do, he _may_ die," House agreed. "If we don't, he'll _definitely_ die. Personally, I'd like to take the option that at least has a question mark over it. Cameron, Chase, get to ICU and talk to them. We're going to need signed authorisation from whichever of them wants to take responsibility. Foreman, start preparing for the surgery."

"_Before_ you have permission?" Foreman asked, sounding none-too-surprised. House ignored the question, and headed for the door.

"What are you going to do?" Chase asked.

"I'm going to talk to Cuddy. Get moving!"

* * *

Cuddy stared at House blankly, not quite sure that she'd heard right, and fairly praying she'd heard him wrong.

"You want to stop his heart? House, did you read your own notes on his charts? He'll never survive! You know he won't!"

"No," House argued. "He _might_ not survive. Not definitely won't. There's a difference."

"I'm sure that'll be very comforting to his friends and colleagues when they attend his funeral," Cuddy snapped. "The answer's no, House. You can't perform the procedure."

"I don't want to perform it. I want Foreman to perform it."

Cuddy glared up at him.

"He can't perform it, either."

"Well, if you have any brilliant suggestions on how we get that piece of metal out of his body, then I'm all ears," House snapped.

"Did you consider trying a magnet?" Cuddy shot back sarcastically.

House froze, staring at her in shock. Cuddy happened to glance up at him at that moment, realised what was going through his mind, and promptly started up out of her chair.

"House, don't you dare..."

"It's okay," House assured her quickly as he began to back towards the door. "If anybody asks, I'll happily tell them it was all your idea."

"House..."

But he was already gone, and she could hear the clip of his cane as he hurried away from her office as fast as he could. Cursing softly, she slumped back into her seat, and prayed that he knew what he was doing.

* * *

"Are you serious?" Mike asked incredulously when Chase and Cameron finished explaining the procedure. Deakins spoke in a low, dangerously calm voice.

"You want to cut into him and stop his heart so that you can move the fragment you've found back into his lung?"

"We know how it sounds..." Cameron said, but Deakins cut her off.

"Just answer me one thing, Dr Cameron. What are his chances of surviving an operation like this?"

"They're not good," Chase answered quietly when Cameron appeared to freeze. "He has maybe a twenty-five percent chance of surviving, but if we don't try, his chances of surviving are zero. That fragment isn't going to stay where it is for long, and when it does eventually become dislodged, it's going to be carried straight into his heart. If that happens, it _will_ kill him."

"Now I know the meaning of that rock and a hard place thing," Mike said bitterly.

"There's no time to debate this," Chase insisted quietly. "I'm sorry, but we need permission to go ahead with the procedure."

Deakins pressed one hand over his eyes, feeling sick to his stomach. The decision was his to make; he'd ensured that when he decided to go to Jersey. He didn't like it, but it was the position he'd placed himself in, for better or worse.

He looked back down at Bobby's ashen features once more. The detective had lost consciousness again soon after his and Angie's arrival, and Deakins suspected he was not going to wake up again. If the procedure the doctors had outlined was the only chance Bobby had, then there was no other choice. He had to let them try.

"Do it," he said finally, in a strained voice. "I'll sign whatever you need signed. Do whatever you have to do to save him."

Chase nodded, grateful that the captain seemed to comprehend the extreme urgency.

"We'll bring it in for you to sign when we come back to get him for the surgery."

And then Chase and Cameron were gone. Deakins turned around slowly, anticipating accusatory glares from everyone else in the room, but it didn't happen. Instead, Angie slipped her arm through his, and hugged him to her.

"It was the only choice, Jim. Whatever happens, at least we know they'll have done everything they could."

"That's not going to make any of us feel any better if we end up having to bury him," Deakins whispered, clinging to his wife for much-needed support.

"That's not going to happen," Alex argued, her voice shaking audibly. "It's not. He's going to be okay. You'll see. They'll get that thing out of him, and he'll be okay. He has to be..."

Mike walked around and wrapped his arms around Alex in a fierce hug as she broke down in a flood of tears.

_Please, let him survive this_, Deakins thought in growing despair. _Please_...

* * *

"We got their permission," Chase said grimly as he and Cameron arrived back at the office at the same time as House. "They're not happy, but they've agreed. The captain said he'd sign the necessary papers when we're ready to take Bobby into surgery."

"Forget it," House said as he pushed past them into the office. "We're not doing it."

The two younger doctors exchanged baffled looks.

"We're not...?" Cameron asked. "Then how are we going to get it out?"

They watched as House rummaged around in a drawer before producing a small metal ball bearing, and a magnet.

"We'll use a magnet."

"A magnet?" Chase echoed. "That's crazy!"

House set the ball bearing on the desk top, and laid a single sheet of paper over the top, holding both down with one hand. With the other hand, he held the magnet a few inches above the ball bearing, and began to move it along. The ball bearing began to roll, being dragged along by the force of the magnet.

"We open him up, and then use a magnet to move it back into his lung, and extract it. As simple as that."

"House, that's dangerous..." Cameron started to argue, but Chase cut her off.

"No... He's right. It could work! It's crazy, but it might just work! We wouldn't have to take the risk of stopping his heart, and he'll have an increased chance of surviving the surgery... at least a forty or fifty percent."

"Go," House told Chase sharply. "Tell Foreman the change of plan. I want to do this immediately."

Chase ran from the room.

* * *

"A magnet?" Foreman echoed incredulously when Chase told him. "Son of a bitch... That's so crazy, it might actually work!"

"Do we have anything we can use?" Chase wondered, looking around the OR. "It needs to be powerful enough to move the fragment against the blood flow."

"Don't you worry about that," Foreman told his colleague with a grin. "I've got that under control. You just worry about keeping him alive while he's on the table."

Chase nodded his acquiescence with a faint smile.

"You've got a deal."

* * *

It was quite conceivably the worst wait any of them had ever endured. Absolute silence reigned from the time Bobby was taken for the surgery, as they all sat lost in their own thoughts and fears.

Alex accepted comfort from no one, standing alone at the window of Bobby's ICU room, and clutching his shield in her cold hands. It sickened her to try and imagine life without her partner, after they'd been through so much together. And yet the irony wasn't lost on her, that there was a strong possibility that Bobby would lose his life as a result of Erik Mathers after all. It would be a horribly bitter pill to swallow if that were the case. To have survived that nightmare on the mountain... the incident in Denton... and that second business back on Gore Mountain, only to die in a hospital in New Jersey?

She looked down at the shield in her hands. The thought was just about more than she could stand, and she knew right then that she couldn't face the prospect of working without Bobby. If he died now, there was no way she would be able to stay with the NYPD. It would simply be too painful.

The minutes ticked by with agonising slowness. They'd not been provided with any sort of possible timeline for the surgery, and so they had no way of knowing how long it should take. All they knew was that with every passing minute, the waiting became more difficult, and more painful.

When, nearly two hours later, the door of the ICU room opened and House walked in, they were all nearly beside themselves.

"Well?" Deakins asked in a strained voice. House hesitated in answering, looking past him to where Alex still stood by the window, watching him with fearful eyes. They were all trying to brace themselves for the worst news and, for once, he didn't feel like making things worse for them. He stretched out one hand and opened it to reveal a thin piece of metal in the palm of his hand.

"Anyone care for a souvenir?"

The response was like a wave, relief crashing over each one of them as realisation struck that Bobby had survived the surgery.

"Do us a favour, Dr House," Deakins said in a strained voice, "and get rid of that thing."

House nodded amicably, and slipped it away out of sight once more.

"So, he's okay?" Carolyn asked.

"Not yet," House answered seriously. "I won't lie to you and say it's over, because it's not. He's still critical, and he could still die. We've got the offending fragment out, but now we have to analyse the poison to work out what drugs to give him to combat it. We've put him into an induced coma to try and keep him stable until we can figure that out."

"How long will it take?" Alex asked. "How long to figure out how to fight what Mathers poisoned him with?"

House regarded her soberly.

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "But we're doing our best."

She nodded, indicating her acceptance of his words.

"I believe you."

"He'll be brought back here as soon as he's been stabilised," House told them. "My people will keep you updated."

He turned for the door, and was just on his way out when Alex spoke again.

"Thankyou, Dr House."

He paused, and looked back at her. The two of them locked stares and, for a brief moment, it was as though no one else was there. Finally, House broke away and continued out of the room, muttering under his breath as he went.

"Thank me when we know he's going to live."

* * *

_tbc..._


	11. Waiting

"Incredible…"

"What's incredible, Carolyn?" Angie asked when, several hours later, they all sat together in the hospital cafeteria. After Bobby had been brought back to the ICU, Dr Cameron had encouraged them to go elsewhere for a while. Even if they couldn't bring themselves to leave the hospital, then at least go somewhere away from the stiflingly sterile atmosphere of the ICU wing. Alex had protested, not surprisingly, but Cameron assured them that she, Chase and Foreman would be taking it in turns to monitor Bobby around the clock. He would not be left alone, not for a minute.

And so, Deakins had conceded on behalf of the whole group and, despite Alex's obvious displeasure, herded them all out and down to the cafeteria.

Now, they sat around steaming cups of moderately decent coffee, each of them mulling over in their own minds the dramatic events of the last few days.

"That something so tiny could do so much damage," Carolyn said, in answer to Angie's query.

"What I'd like to know is how was it missed?" Mike growled. "That goddamn piece of metal has been in his body for two years!"

"Something that small?" Deakins said. "Easily, when there was so much else to deal with at the time. Don't forget how badly hurt he was, Mike."

Mike's expression was grim.

"Don't worry, Captain. I remember."

Alex looked up slowly at them.

"What was it like?"

Silence fell at her ambiguous question. Finally, Deakins spoke, asking for clarification.

"What do you mean, Alex? What was what like?"

"That flight home… from Gore Mountain. I… I don't remember it."

"Thank God," Mike muttered, and the captain nodded his agreement.

"Yes, I agree. It wasn't pleasant, Alex. You and Bobby were in such a bad way…" He shuddered slightly at the memories that assaulted him. "We thought we were going to lose you both."

Alex looked away again, and Angie reached over to squeeze her husband's hand reassuringly. It was all too clear what was going through all their minds. It would be a massive injustice for Bobby to have survived all of that, only to lose his life as a result of Erik Mathers' evil after all.

"I want to say we shouldn't worry, that he'll be okay," Angie said quietly. "But I don't dare, because there's still that chance that he won't be."

"They said it was up to Bobby now," Carolyn said. "It would be his decision whether he lives or dies."

"Just like on Gore Mountain," Deakins said softly, and all eyes turned to him.

"What do you mean?" Alex asked, frowning a little. Deakins hesitated, realising this was part of the story that Alex had never been told.

"What do you mean?" she asked again, her voice taking on an edge. The captain sighed, and gave in, knowing she would not be deterred.

"You know that I went looking for Bobby after we found you."

She nodded wordlessly, still frowning. Deakins went on quietly.

"Well, what you were never told was that when I shot Mathers and he fell over the edge of the cliff, he took Bobby with him. When I got there, Bobby was hanging on to the edge of the cliff by one hand, and I was just in time to grab his wrist before he let go. I needed him to give me his other hand, though, but he wouldn't reach up."

"His left hand?" Alex wondered, and Deakins nodded.

"Yes."

"That arm was broken, Captain."

"I know, but I needed him to reach all the same. I couldn't pull him up with just the one arm. He wasn't trying at all… I believe he wanted me to let him go, because he thought you were dead, Alex. And we might not have been able to save him from falling, if Lieutenant Caine hadn't arrived at that point and said you were still alive. It was only by telling Bobby that you were still alive, that he finally decided to live."

Tears filled Alex's eyes, and she looked away once more.

"If he dies now… I might just follow him," she said in a muffled voice. Mike slipped an arm around her shoulders, and hugged her to him.

"Well, Alex, maybe you need to tell him that."

She looked up at him incredulously.

"What? That I can't live without him, and he's not getting away with dying without me? He'd probably kill himself laughing."

"Don't be so sure of that, Alex," Angie told her gently. Alex flushed red, misinterpreting the inference.

"Bobby and I aren't lovers. How many times do I have to say it?"

"We know that, Alex," Deakins assured her. "But we also know you two are so close it's almost frightening. And if Bobby is going to listen and respond to anyone now, it'll be you."

"What am I supposed to say to him?" Alex asked, confused and miserable.

"You'll know," Deakins told her confidently. "When we go back upstairs, you'll know."

* * *

In the end, Alex left them still sipping coffee in the cafeteria, and headed back upstairs to the ICU. She arrived back at Bobby's room to find Cameron gone, and House himself standing at the end of Bobby's bed. The doctor wasn't making any effort to examine the charts, or check the output of the machines that were all doing their part to keep Bobby alive. He was just standing there, leaning heavily on his cane and watching Bobby in silence.

"Does it hurt?"

House looked around, slightly startled by her voice. Then, the surprise faded from his eyes, to be replaced with a familiar cynicism.

"No. I just like the image it gives me. And the cane is _really_ useful for hitting people with."

Alex smiled as she walked around and took her seat once more at Bobby's side.

"Bobby hated his cane, when he graduated to it from the crutches. He thought he should be able to just skip that altogether. The number of times Captain Deakins tore strips off him for walking around without it… And his rehab physio wasn't too happy with him, either. Now… He'll need it for the rest of his life. He still hates it, but he's learning to live with it."

"What do you want me to do, Detective?" House asked caustically. "Throw confetti?"

"Lay off the attitude, Doc. It's old news. Tell me honestly, will he live?"

"He will if he wants to badly enough," House replied bluntly. "We have him on the right mix of antibiotics now to counter the poison in his body _and_ the pneumonia, and he's responding well to them. His vitals are slowly improving, his body temperature is coming down, his heartbeat is regular and his lungs are starting to function again properly. We'll give it another twenty-four hours, and then start bringing him out of the coma. After that, when and if he wakes up will be entirely up to him."

Alex turned and leaned in close to her comatose partner.

"Did you hear that, Bobby? It's your choice, and you'd better choose the right one, or I swear to god I'll kick your ass. Do you hear me, partner? Don't you _dare_ leave me behind."

"I still don't know whether to envy him, or feel sorry for him," House remarked wryly. Alex couldn't quite hide a smile.

"He's my best friend, Dr House. Neither of us would be here now if it weren't for the other. We owe each other our lives, and I'll be damned if I'll sit back and let this get the better of him."

House stared at her for nearly a minute, taking in the way that she continued to murmur to him, to hold his hand in her own and stroke his forehead soothingly. He took in the way that everything she did spoke in volumes of how much she loved Bobby.

"You've got my professional opinion," he said abruptly. "Now here's my unprofessional opinion. I think he's going to be fine, Detective."

She looked around at him as he turned to head for the door.

"Really, Dr House?"

House threw her a flat stare as he paused in the doorway.

"With you sitting there threatening him? He'd be an idiot not to be."

Alex watched him go, before allowing a small, tired smile to touch her lips as she returned her attention to her partner.

* * *

Over the next twenty-four hours, Alex watched in a near silent vigil as, slowly, the medical staff began to remove various equipment from the ICU room. One by one, the pieces of equipment that had all played a vital part in keeping Bobby alive were shut down, and removed entirely. Finally, all that remained was the IV unit, and the ventilator that was attached to the tube down his throat.

At the end of twenty-four hours, that too was removed once it was determined that Bobby was capable of breathing once again without assistance.

"It's a good sign that you're taking that out now, isn't it?" Mike asked as Foreman slid the tube carefully out of Bobby's mouth and throat.

Right then, he and Alex were the only ones there. With the danger period finally over, the captain and his wife had returned to New York, leaving any further decision-making in Mike's hands. Carolyn, at both Mike and Alex's insistence, had gone back to the hotel for some much-needed rest. Mike hadn't bothered to suggest that Alex leave as well. He knew damned well that she would not leave Bobby's presence until she was convinced in her own heart and mind that he would be okay.

Foreman smiled, and nodded in response to Mike's query.

"Yes. He's breathing on his own, now. We're ready to start waking him up." He paused, looking around at them with a reassuring smile. "He's going to be okay, folks."

"How long will it take him to wake up?" Mike asked, with one watchful eye on Alex.

"It could be anywhere between a couple of hours to a couple of days. I don't think it'll take him that long, though. He wasn't kept comatose for that long. Usually when a person has spent a week or more in a coma, it'll take them longer to pull out of it. With Bobby, it was less than forty-eight hours."

"What about side-effects?"

Foreman hesitated, his gaze flickering to Alex.

"I'm sorry… I'm not sure what you mean. Are you referring to possible side-effects from the coma?"

"I'm referring to any possible side-effects at all," Alex answered quietly. "He went into cardiac arrest once. His temperature went so high that you had to put him in an ice bath. He had a seizure where he stopped breathing entirely. How can you know that none of that did any permanent damage to him?"

"You're talking about brain damage," Foreman realised, and knew he was right from the way that Alex tensed just slightly. "Okay… The fact is, there is no real way to tell for sure until he wakes up. When he _does_ wake up, we'll run a fresh series of scans and tests, but until then, all we can do now is wait."

A bitter smile touched Alex's lips.

"I never was any good at waiting."

Foreman smiled sympathetically.

"I can understand that, Detective Eames. And I know I can't say for certain… but just between us, I don't think we're going to find any indication of brain damage. I think he's going to pull through this just fine."

Alex leaned forward a little, brushing her fingers lightly over Bobby's pale cheek. One of the nurses had taken it on herself to shave him earlier that day, and his skin was nice and smooth as a result. With her fingers pressed gently to his cheek, without the barrier of the usual day and a half stubble, she could feel the difference between the mild fever that he was still suffering, as opposed to the deadly heat that had nearly killed him only a couple of days before.

"And the pneumonia?" she asked.

"Well," Foreman mused, "he'll need to stay hospitalised here for a couple of weeks…"

"He'll hate that," Alex murmured. Foreman chuckled softly. He didn't doubt she was right about that.

"Like it or hate it, he's not going to have a choice."

"You don't know him very well, do you?" Mike asked dryly. "You tell him he has to stay, and I guarantee he'll get himself discharged as soon as he can walk five steps without tipping over."

Foreman nodded, unperturbed.

"It'll be at least two weeks before he can walk _two_ steps without collapsing, let along five. The danger period is over, but he is still a very sick man. After two weeks, then we'll review his condition, and look at a medical transfer to New York for him. But until then, he's stuck with us. Specifically, he's stuck with my boss."

"You mean he might actually look in on Bobby?" she asked snarkily. "Wow. We'd be honoured."

Foreman's grin widened as he headed for the door.

"Don't knock it, Detective. Dr House usually doesn't like dealing with his patients at all, and when he does, he generally gives them as little time as he can get away with. The fact that he's been coming to look in on Bobby is definitely not the norm for him. He'd never admit it, but I think that story you told us really impressed him. And believe me, it's almost impossible for impress Dr House."

Alex glanced over as Foreman headed for the door.

"Dr Foreman?"

He paused in the doorway, looking at her questioningly.

"Yes?"

"How much of all of this is he likely to remember?"

Foreman hesitated in answering. He thought he knew why she was asking, and his mind briefly flashed back to when they'd had to immerse Bobby in the ice bath to counter the effects of a potentially lethal fever.

"I don't know," he answered finally, honestly. "Hopefully, not a lot. But the human mind is a strange thing, and there'll be no telling until he does actually wake up. Excuse me."

He hurried from the room before she could ask anymore questions. Mike watched him go, before joining Alex at their colleague's bedside.

"Too bad there isn't a drug that they can give him to erase the memories. He _doesn't_ need to remember any of this."

"He wouldn't want it, even if there was something that could do that." Alex sighed softly. "I can't believe how close I came to losing him again. If Erik Mathers wasn't dead…"

Mike slipped a comforting arm around her shoulders.

"I know. But he's gonna be okay, Alex. We'll deal with whatever else comes along, as it happens. Right now, all we need to know is that he's gonna be okay."

She looked at Mike sadly, and then back to Bobby, to where her fingers still rested against his cheek.

"I'll believe that when he wakes up, Mike."

He nodded agreeably, trying to look more confident that he really felt.

_You'd better be okay, Goren_, he thought grimly. _For her sake, you'd better be._

_

* * *

_

tbc...


	12. A Slow Process

_Approximately 12 hours later_

The first thing he noticed as he came slowly back to awareness was the lack of pain. Not that he expected pain, or wanted it, but for some reason it was the first thing his sleep-fogged mind noted. The second thing he realised, as his mind slowly began to reawaken, was that the intense heat that had been slowly engulfing him was gone. He still felt uncomfortably warm, but his body no longer felt as though it was on fire.

He tried to open his eyes, but they wouldn't cooperate. In the end, he gave up trying, deciding he would achieve that particular feat when his body was good and ready.

Slowly, he became aware of a hand covering his; a slim, cool hand that was a huge relief against his hot skin. His fingers flexed instinctively, and that cool hand closed around his in an inherently reassuring gesture.

"Bobby? Can you hear me?"

He knew that voice. It was the voice of an angel; the voice of his angel. His lips moved, but no sound emerged. His throat was too dry, and his mouth felt like it had been rubbed out with sandpaper.

"Here..."

He felt a straw against his lips, and found the strength to draw a few sips of cold water into his mouth. Dimly, it occurred to him somewhere in the back of his exhausted mind that he wasn't dead – far from it. He was still very much alive, and the exhaustion, nausea and fever he was experiencing was proof to it.

Bobby decided to try opening his eyes again, and this time he was marginally more successful. As his vision slowly focused, he found himself looking up into the single most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

"...'lex..."

He was barely able to speak, but his companion understood regardless. Alex smiled down at him.

"Hey, you."

Bobby shuddered, and opened his mouth to try and speak again, but any effort was stopped when Alex pressed her fingertip gently to his lips.

"Don't try to talk, Bobby. Just listen, okay? They figured it out. They found what was making you sick. It was a piece of one of those spikes that Erik Mathers used. There was a piece still in your body, and when you came down with the pneumonia, it helped to make you so sick." She stroked his forehead soothingly, and smiled tearfully at him. "You're going to be okay, Bobby. Do you understand me? You're going to be fine."

Somehow, her words registered in his still-foggy mind. He gave up trying to speak, and instead settled for concentrating on their joined hands.

* * *

Alex watched Bobby with loving care. She'd expected him to slip back into unconsciousness, but to her pleasant and grateful surprise, he didn't. Instead, he continued to lie awake, looking up at her with an expression that was pure relief. He'd understood her words and he knew that his illness had finally been identified, but she suspected the finer details had escaped his current state of awareness.

That suited her fine. She would happily let the good Dr House explain those points to him once he'd recovered sufficiently. For now, though, she was content to know that he was going to live.

"Hey, he's awake?"

She looked around to see Mike had materialised behind her. It was now just herself and Mike there, after Carolyn had been summoned back to New York by the captain. The lectures she and Bobby were supposed to have been giving over the course of that week and the next had been cancelled out of respect and courtesy to the sick detective, and Deakins had decided he needed at least one of them back at work. Carolyn had volunteered. It was obvious that Alex was not going to be convinced to leave her partner's side anytime soon, and both Carolyn and Deakins had agreed that it would be best if Mike were the one to stay there with her – particularly as he still had authority to make any medical decisions for Bobby that might still need to be made.

"Yeah, he's awake," Alex answered, smiling up at him. Mike leaned past Alex, and waited until Bobby's eyes had focused on him before speaking.

"Hey, pal. Welcome back."

Again, Bobby's lips moved, and this time they could make out faint whispers.

"_Mi...ikey..._"

Mike's lips quirked in amusement. Bobby knew as well as anyone in the Major Case Squad that he hated being called Mikey, and it was testament to Bobby's recovery powers that he had the gumption to call him that right then.

"Cute, Bobby," Mike retorted. "Real cute. Glad to see you're feeling better, smart-ass."

To the relief of both of them, a small smile flickered briefly across Bobby's lips, but he made no further effort to speak. Then, as they both watched, his eyes closed again and he slid easily back into a healing sleep. Mike slipped an arm around Alex's shoulders, and drew her to him in a warm hug.

"You see? He's going to be fine. Now, think you might be able to drag yourself away for a while, and get some proper rest?"

Alex hesitated. As much as she knew Mike was right, she was still reluctant to leave him. Mike took a step back, gently drawing her with him.

"C'mon, Alex. You know I'm right. You've hardly slept at all since we got here. He's going to be okay, so you don't have any more excuses."

"Mike…" she protested, but he silenced her with a hug.

"I promised the captain I'd look out for you, Alex. Don't make me pull rank on you."

She snorted at that.

"That's rich. _I_ outrank _you_, in case you'd forgotten."

"Minor technicality," Mike answered flippantly. "I'm still bigger than you."

Alex couldn't resist a grin as she allowed herself to be drawn away from her partner's bedside.

"Bobby made the mistake of making that assumption once, Mike. Only once."

"Oh? Do I want to know what you did?"

"Well… let's just say that he was walking with a limp for a week."

Mike winced.

"Okay…"

She laughed softly at his sudden trepidation.

"It's okay, Mike. I know you're right. I do need the rest. Just, promise me you'll stay with him? And call me if anything happens?"

He hugged her again, and this time she hugged him back.

"I promise, Alex. But nothing's going to happen. Go on, now. Go back to the hotel, and get some rest."

She hesitated for only a moment longer before heading from the room. Mike waited until she'd disappeared around the corner before returning to Bobby's bedside.

"Just you and me now, pal," he murmured, sinking into the chair beside the bed and, after a moment, his own eyes closed, and sleep overtook him.

* * *

Mike awoke with a start what could have been minutes or hours later to discover Dr Cameron on the other side of the bed, running through a checklist of simple tests. Bobby, Mike was pleased to notice, was awake, and responsive.

"Good morning," Cameron greeted Mike with a smile as she gently lay Bobby's arm back down on the bed. Mike looked vaguely startled, particularly when he realised he was partially covered with a hospital blanket.

"Wha…?"

"You slept right through the night," Bobby said, and though his voice sounded a little on the hoarse side, his words were lucid. Mike pushed himself to his feet, pausing to stretch before leaning against the bed and grinning down at his friend and colleague.

"You look better. How are you feeling?"

"Like crap," came the blunt answer, and Mike had to laugh.

"Yeah, well, you're still with us. That's what matters."

Bobby sighed softly, making no objection as Cameron pulled the blankets up to his chest and fluffed the pillows beneath his head.

"It was a close one, wasn't it?"

"Close? Bobby, you scared the shit out of all of us. Damn it, if you ever do anything like this again…"

"Didn't mean it, Mike."

"I know, pal. Believe me, we're just grateful that you're going to be okay."

"Even… Even the captain…?"

Mike hesitated in responding to that, his sharp ears easily catching the bitterness in Bobby's voice. He didn't think Bobby blamed Deakins at all for his illness, but he also recalled vividly the ferocious argument Bobby had had with the captain the day before he and Carolyn left for New Jersey…

He sucked in a sharp breath. Bobby had gone to Deakins, begging to be let out of the commitment and complaining of illness. Now that he thought back on it, Mike recalled thinking that Bobby hadn't looked well then, but everyone had just put it down to him looking for an out from giving the lectures. No one had paid any heed to his complaints – not even Alex, and she was usually completely attuned to her partner.

Still, if Bobby seriously thought that Deakins didn't give a damn, then he couldn't have been more wrong, and he didn't hesitate in telling him so.

"Bobby, just how much _do _you remember of the last week?"

"Since I collapsed…?"

"Yeah."

"Not a lot," Bobby admitted. "It's all pretty hazy. Why?"

"So… You don't remember that the captain and his wife drove here in the middle of the night because they were worried sick about you?"

Bobby went very abruptly quiet. Mike watched him for a long while before speaking again.

"We were all worried sick, pal. Even Deakins. _Especially_ Deakins."

A soft sigh escaped Bobby's lips, then.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"Yeah, well, I know you were pissed at being ordered to give those lectures, but the truth is you probably would've ended up as sick as this anyway. You know you do actually have pneumonia? Dr House wasn't wrong about that."

Bobby nodded breathlessly. Cameron had filled him in on the details while Mike was still sleeping. She'd also strategically avoided answering him when he'd asked how long he'd have to stay in the hospital, by shoving a thermometer in his mouth. Mike smiled faintly, correctly interpreting Bobby's expression.

"Well, just between us, Bobby, I don't think the quacks in New York…" He glanced up to briefly meet Cameron's disapproving frown, and smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. I don't think the _doctors_ back home would have been able to figure it out. They sure as hell wouldn't have made the leap of logic that your illness was related to Erik Mathers."

"Leaps of logic," Bobby murmured with a wry smile, and Mike laughed.

"Right. Just like a certain Major Case detective I know."

Bobby looked up at Cameron, then, who was just finishing up her tasks.

"Where is Dr House? I…. I'd like to... to thank him."

Cameron hesitated. She hated this part. Most patients couldn't understand why the abrasive doctor never came near them once their illness was diagnosed and successfully treated and many took it as a personal slight, which they then inexorably took out on her, Chase or Foreman – whoever was the most convenient target. She really didn't care to have the likes of Bobby Goren mad at her.

"Actually… You probably won't see him. Once he's solved a case, he usually doesn't… um…"

"Interact with his patients?" Bobby queried. She nodded, looking embarrassed but resigned.

"Right."

"Well… Pass on a message for me?"

Cameron looked uneasy, but didn't object. Bobby went on in a progressively softer voice. He was quickly running out of energy, and would likely be asleep again within a matter of minutes.

"Tell him… I still think he's a son of a bitch… but thankyou… for saving my life."

Cameron smiled, then, visibly relieved. In an affectionate, she gently brushed his hair back from his forehead.

"I'll tell him. Try and get some rest now, okay?"

Both men watched her, and Mike spoke with a wry chuckle.

"Now, if I were ten years younger, and a Jersey cop…"

"You've mellowed," Bobby mumbled. "A year ago, she wouldn't have been too young for you."

Mike grunted.

"Yeah, well, things change."

Bobby was starting to drift again, finding it hard to focus, although he didn't know whether it was from whatever drugs they were giving him, or plain and simple exhaustion. There was something else he'd wanted to ask, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember what it was. In the end, he gave up trying. It didn't matter, and he was just so damned tired all of a sudden…

* * *

Mike watched as Bobby fell asleep once more. Alex was going to be pissed that she'd missed him being awake, and reasonably lucid, but what could he do? He hadn't meant to sleep through the whole night, and God knew his back and neck were paying for it now. It was a testament to how tired he really was that he had slept so heavily in such an uncomfortable chair.

Alex might be pissed at him, he mused, but even she wouldn't begrudge him a decent night's sleep. That was something none of them had gotten since Bobby had been admitted to the hospital.

For want of something better to do, Mike found his gaze going around the room slowly, until his eyes gravitated to Bobby's calliper and walking stick, where they were stored in a corner of the room. In the months since their return from Gore Mountain, and the grim prognosis from Bobby's doctor, a calliper had been designed and tailor-made to suit the detective, allowing him maximum flexibility while still providing much-needed support. His walking stick had been designed for him as well by a friend of Deakins' who specialised in the craft.

Bobby had been grateful for the efforts that those around him had gone to, for the designs of both the calliper and the walking stick contributed greatly to his ability to continue working as a detective. On the other hand, though, he hated the items for the way that they acted as a permanent reminder of unwanted limitations.

It was a pity that House couldn't heal Bobby leg along with the rest of his body, Mike thought sadly. It seemed a tragic fact that Bobby was condemned to a life of constant pain, with no relief. It sucked, but what choices were there? Nada.

The only godsend, Mike reflected, was that Commissioner Adkins was sympathetic to Bobby's situation, and had guaranteed his position with Major Case.

Mike supposed he could have been jealous at the support Bobby had received, when he himself had been left high and dry by the brass more than once, but he wasn't. Bobby had more than earned the consideration that he got, and he would be the first to step up against anyone who said otherwise.

"Wow. You almost look thoughtful."

Mike looked around in mild surprise as House came into the room.

"Dr Cameron said you avoided your patients once you figured out what was wrong with them."

"Dr Cameron lies. You're a cop. You couldn't figure that out?"

Mike chuckled, too relieved at Bobby's recovery to feel aggravated.

"No, she doesn't. It's just Bobby. You're curious about him."

House came to a halt at the end of the bed. He watched Bobby's sleeping form for a minute before looking quizzically to Mike.

"It's true, isn't it? He walked on two broken legs."

"Yes, it's true. And then about nine months later, he did it again when his partner was in danger."

"He walked on two broken legs?" House wondered, this time sounding more than a little incredulous.

"No, just the one broken leg that time. But that was the break that ended up crippling him."

House refrained from making comments about stubborn cops making idiotic decisions. He figured it probably wouldn't be appreciated. Instead, he settled for a less provocative remark.

"And they let him stay on as a cop? Who kissed whose ass kiss for that?"

Mike shrugged, unperturbed by the comment, primarily because he knew it wasn't the case.

"Bobby's a smart guy. His solve rate is over the moon, and I think he's only had to actually fire his weapon once since he joined Major Case. The Commissioner knew it was the NYPD that would have been the loser if he let Bobby be forced out on a disability pension, so he worked it so that Bobby could stay on. And believe me, he can still do the job. He's still the best we've got."

"You respect him," House mused, quietly impressed by the admiration in Mike's voice. Mike answered with a confirming nod.

"Yes," he answered calmly and simply. "I do."

* * *

When Bobby awoke two days later to find he'd been moved out of the ICU and into a regular ward, he knew he was finally on the road to recovery. As frustrated as he felt at the restrictions being imposed on him – such as being unable to get up and move around – he couldn't ignore the relief at the knowledge that he was finally out of those proverbial woods.

Being in a regular ward told him that yes, he was recovering. It said that yes, he was going to be okay. That in itself was a good feeling, and he could see his own relief reflected in Mike and Alex's faces as they came over to the bedside.

"Hey," Alex murmured, smiling warmly down at him. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," he answered, and realised that he meant it.

"You look a lot better," Mike commented. "I mean, considering how you looked a week ago…"

His words ended in a pained grunt as Alex elbowed him solidly in the ribs.

"What?" he grumbled. "I'm just telling it like it is."

"We don't need reminders, thankyou," Alex snapped, and Mike held his hands up defensively.

"Sorry. I'll keep my trap shut, then."

"S'okay," Bobby murmured, anxious to end the sudden tension in the room. "I don't mind. I know I… wasn't good."

Mike snorted at that.

"That's gotta be the biggest understatement I've ever heard!"

Alex frowned at him, and then leaned in close to Bobby, stroking his forehead and cheek soothingly.

"Bobby, do you realise just how sick you were?"

"I know," he answered wearily. "I know. I nearly died."

"Yes, you did," Alex confirmed. "And if you ever frighten me like that again, I'll kick your ass. Do you hear me?"

He smiled faintly.

"Got it. Now… When can I get out of here?"

Mike laughed openly at that.

"We were taking bets on how long it'd take you to ask that question. Sorry, bud, but you're not going anywhere for at least another two weeks."

The dismay on Bobby's face said it all, and Alex leaned in to press a gentle kiss to his forehead.

"Don't worry, you won't be left alone here. I'm not going anywhere. Neither is Mike."

"At least, not until the end of the week," Mike added. "I think that's about as long as I'll be able to sucker Deakins into letting me stay for, before he tells me to get my ass back to New York."

"And we thought you hated Jersey," Alex remarked dryly, and Mike grinned.

"Hate the state, love the people."

"You mean you love certain female doctors," Bobby corrected. Mike shrugged nonchalantly.

"What can I say? I love women."

"Uh huh," Alex snorted, and promptly returned her attention to her partner. "I'm sorry, Bobby. There was no negotiating with them over when you can leave. We already tried. Apparently Dr House said you couldn't be discharged for at least two weeks, until he's satisfied that you're well on the way to recovery… Not to mention, you're going to need some serious physio on that leg before you can walk again."

Bobby frowned, realising unhappily that she was right. Alex went on quickly, before he could focus too much on that particular issue.

"Dr House actually seemed to be under the strange impression that you couldn't be trusted to take the time off that you'd need to recover properly, if he let you be discharged early."

Bobby looked away sulkily.

"I wonder where he got that idea."

A moment later, he yelped as Alex slapped him hard enough on the shoulder for it to sting.

"Don't you go there, Goren," she growled. "You know damn well that I wouldn't go behind your back like that. The only person who gave House that idea was _you_."

"Me?" Bobby asked incredulously. "When?"

"How about when you ignored his advice about getting proper bed rest, and went ahead and did that stupid lecture?" Alex shot back. "And, that reminds me…"

"Ow!" Bobby burst out in protest when she slapped him a second time. "What was that for?"

"For being a stubborn idiot," Alex snapped. "You should _never_ have given that lecture!"

"And have Deakins on my ass about obligations? No thankyou."

"Don't you lie to me, Bobby. Don't you dare. You didn't take that lecture out of any sense of obligation to Deakins, or to anyone else. You took it because you wanted to prove House wrong. Didn't you?"

The silence that followed answered her accusation more succinctly than anything he could possibly have said. Alex nodded with grim satisfaction.

"I thought so. You were stupid, Bobby. You could have done so much damage to yourself…"

"I… I didn't realise how bad it was…" Bobby protested weakly, but the words died on his lips as Alex glared at him with a harsh stare that he couldn't quite meet.

"Look me in the eye, and tell me that," she challenged him in a soft, yet equally powerful voice. He couldn't, and ended up looking away entirely. After a long moment, Alex reached across the bed and closed her hand gently over his. "Bobby, I love you, but if you ever play Russian Roulette with your health again…"

She trailed off, leaving the threat unspoken. When Bobby finally looked back at her, his eyes were red and his cheeks wet with tears.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "Alex, I'm sorry…"

Alex leaned in to hug him as fiercely as she dared.

"It's okay, Bobby," she whispered, and as she spoke she felt a huge weight lift off her. "It's going to be okay."

* * *

_tbc..._


End file.
